I parked my car under a tree and headed for the pond I saw in the distance. There were a few children playing with their parents in the field beside the parking lot, but they didn’t seem to notice me.

Creeping down the narrow causeway, I arrived at the pond. The water was still, lilies the size of dinner plates floating by. I started to skirt around the edges of the pond, my head craning beneath the underbrush beside the path. I located some small rocks on the water’s shore, flipping them over and finding nothing.

Then, after an hour or so of searching, I noticed a small, dark shape stirring in the grass further up ahead near the water’s edge. I looked closer and it was then I found what I was looking for – a salamander, the size of a housekey and practically just as flat. Its tail was slippery wet, and its skin glinted in the sunlight as I spooned it from the ground to hold in my hand.

There’s something Godlike about holding something so small – something that solely depends on your kindness, your generosity. I had never thought about hurting something before. Until now. I imagined what it might feel like. I imagined closing my hand to make a fist until its tiny body was squished, its innards squeezed out like toothpaste from its mouth open in a muted scream.

Before I allowed myself to get too carried away with the thought, I shoved the little creature inside my pocket. I named him Albert and promised I would treat him with crickets if he behaved. He wouldn’t know the difference if I didn’t, and I knew he wouldn’t call me a liar.

So, as promised, I carried him with me all day, my eyes glancing at my wristwatch every minute or so as if I were anticipating my own execution at twilight. Finally, the moment I had been dreading arrived – all light vacuumed from the sky.

So, I returned to the park after dusk and I took the little creature to a small grove of trees just beyond the parking lot. I sprawled him out along a moss-covered rock, and I searched for a rock nearby. When I finally located one – about the size of a bowling ball – I approached Albert with a wordless apology. He remained perfectly still, as if comfortable in my presence and foolishly thinking I would never do anything to harm him.

Before another moment of hesitation, I brought down the rock and slammed it against him. I heard a vulgar, wet thud. I looked down and saw the poor, pathetic creature – flattened – and crumpled like windblown paper against the rock’s underside. After peeling his little body from the rock, he flopped to the ground and twitched gently before I saw his tiny legs stop from trembling.

The whole forest seemed to fall quiet, as if in mourning for the small creature.