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The Bird

Page 5

by Rose, Willow


  Andy was sent home from school, again. He is used to it. It’s no big deal, really. Besides, it was all worth it. Putting the dead roach on top of Rhianna’s hair during art-class was the best prank he had come up with in a long time.

  Boy, that girl could scream.

  Andy chuckles as he thinks about it, running in the yard leading towards the lake. He crawls under the fence, even though his mother has strictly told him to stay near the house, where she can keep an eye on him. His dog, Lusk, is with him. Andy has a ball in his hand that he throws for the dog to fetch. They run towards the lake. Andy is wearing his trunks. He wants to go swimming, even though his mother has told him to never go into that murky water again. Not since there was a gator spotted down there last month. But Andy ain’t afraid of no gator. No, sirree.

  They say he might be gifted. Andy heard them talk about it the last time he was in the principal’s office. Not today…today he was just sent home since the principal was out of town. But earlier. They even had this doctor come talk to him and give him all these sheets with riddles and pictures for him to solve. It wasn’t very hard. They say that’s why he doesn’t behave well in school. He isn’t challenged enough. Andy thinks it’s awesome that they would think that and laughs again at the idea of him joining a program for gifted children. As long as it gets him out of class every now and then, he’s down with it. Any of it.

  “Wait for me, Lusk,” he yells as the dog runs ahead of him. Andy speeds up and runs as fast as he can without tripping. He loves the feeling of his heart pounding like it’s about to jump out of his chest. It’s fun.

  The path leads him through a small forest, and soon he can spot the mangroves in the distance that mark the beginning of the lake.

  “They hide in the mangroves,” he can hear his mother say. “’em alligators. That’s where they hide.”

  Andy laughs loudly, then slows down as he approaches the water. The thought that there might be a gator or maybe more than one, thrills Andy. He always wanted to go gator hunting with his dad, like some of the other kids from his school do. But his father isn’t a hunter. He works from home, doing programming on his computer, getting paler by the day. It’s boring.

  “At least take me fishing?” Andy had pleaded with him earlier in the week.

  “I don’t fish,” he had answered, not even bothering to look up from his screen. “Never have, never will.”

  “Besides, it’s a bad idea going down to that lake anyway,” his mother had taken over. “Never know what is down there.”

  But Andy knows exactly what is down there, that is why he is in such a hurry. He wants to see the gator before it disappears. For so many days, he wondered if it was still there, ever since the choleric Mrs. Peterson said she had seen it. She had seen its eyes lurking at her, wanting to grab a bite of her meaty thighs (that’s how she put it while snapping her fat fingers in the air while talking to Andy’s mother). There was a girl not far from there who had been bitten by a gator some months ago but had escaped by poking two fingers into its nostrils. Andy knows he would do the same, and part of him really wants to try it. Today is the day because he is already in so much trouble it doesn’t matter if there is one more thing. Andy is clever that way. Maybe that is why they keep calling him gifted.

  “Wait for me, Lusk,” he yells again and rushes to keep up with the dog. The dog suddenly stops and drops the ball. Andy catches up with him. Lusk barks.

  “What’s the matter, Lusk?” Andy says, feeling excited. “Is there something behind those bushes?”

  The dog keeps barking, then backs up. Something is definitely scaring it. It whimpers now, then suddenly takes off.

  “Hey, Lusk. Come back here!” But the dog keeps running, not even looking back. “Stupid dog,” he says, then looks at the tall mangrove in front of him, wondering what exactly it is that has scared Lusk so much. Could it be the alligator? Could he be that lucky?

  Can’t hurt to take a look.

  Andy approaches the bushes, then pulls them aside, creating a path for him to get through. As he approaches the water, he suddenly stops, his jaw literally dropping. In front of him, there is no water, no lake. Well, the lake and water are probably there, but he can’t see it. The entire lake is covered in nests floating on top of the water. Huge nests with hundreds of thousands of eggs. In some nests, he spots small baby birds, their mouths open, ready to be fed, while thousands of mother birds hover above them.

  Big white birds with sparkling green eyes.

  THE END

  Afterword

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing The Bird. I hope you had fun reading it. I sure had fun writing it. Boy, birds can be scary, right? I always thought they were. I hate it when one accidentally gets into the house and flaps around like crazy. I know a lot of people share this fear. I simply had to write about it.

  Since it is a short story, there really isn’t much to tell about it, except that Lansing Island does exist and so do white ravens. They usually live up north in Canada and are very rare, and they usually don’t have green eyes. I don’t think they attack people either, but you never know, do you?

  Don’t forget to leave a review if you can.

  Thank you,

  Willow

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  * * *

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  * * *

  Copyright Willow Rose 2016

  Published by BUOY MEDIA

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  Cover design by Juan Villar Padron,

  https://juanjjpadron.wixsite.com/juanpadron

  Special thanks to my editor Janell Parque

  http://janellparque.blogspot.com/

  Connect with Willow Rose:

  willow-rose.net

  madamewillowrose@gmail.com

  About the Author

  The Queen of Scream, Willow Rose, is an international best-selling author. She writes Mystery/Suspense/Horror, Paranormal Romance and Fantasy. She is inspired by authors like James Patterson, Agatha Christie, Stephen King, Anne Rice, and Isabel Allende. She lives on Florida's Space Coast with her husband and two daughters. When she is not writing or reading, you'll find her surfing and watching the dolphins play in the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. She has sold more than two million books.

  Connect with Willow online:

  willow-rose.net

  madamewillowrose@gmail.com

  Hit the Road Jack

  Excerpt

  For a special sneak peak of Willow Rose's Bestselling Mystery Novel Hit the Road Jack (Jack Ryder #1) turn to the next page.

  * * *

  This could be Heaven or this could be Hell

  ~ Eagles, Hotel California 1977

  * * *

  Part I

  DON’T COME BACK NO MORE

  1

  MAY 2012

  She has no idea who she is or where she is and cares to know neither. For some time, for what seems like forever, she has been in this daze. This haze, in complete darkness with nothing but the sounds. Sounds coming from outside her body, from outside her head. Sometimes, the sounds fade and there is only the darkness.

  As time passes, she becomes aware that there are two realities. The one in her mind, filled with darkness and pain and then the one outside of her, where something or someone else is living, acting, smelling and…singing.

  Yes, that’s it. Someone is singing. Does she know the song?

  …What you say?

  The darkness is soon replaced by light. Still, her eyes are too heavy to open. Her consciousness returns slowly. Enough to start asking questions. Where is she? How did she end up here? A series of pictures of her at home come to her mind. She is waiting. What is she waiting for?

  …I guess if you said so.

  Him. She is waiting for him. She is checking her hair in the mirror every five minutes or so. Then correcting the make-up, looking at the clock again. Where is he? She looks out through the window and at the street and the many staring neighboring windows. A feeling of guilt hits her. Somehow, it seems wrong for this kind of thing to take place in broad daylight.

  …That’s right!

  A car drives up. The anticipation. The butterflies in her stomach. The sound of the doorbell. She is straightening her dress and taking a last glance in the mirror. The next second, she is in his embrace. He is holding her so tight she closes her eyes and breathes him in until his lips cover hers and she swims away.

  …Whoa, Woman, oh woman, don't treat me so mean.

  His breath is pumping against her skin. She feels his hands on her breasts, under her skirt, coming closer, while he presses her up against the wall. She feels him in his hand. He is hard now, moaning in her ear.

  “Where’s your husband?” he whispers.

  “Work,” she moans back, feeling self-conscious. Why did he have to bring up her husband? The guilt is killing her. “The kids are in school.”

  “Good,” he moans. “No one can ever know. Remember that. No one.”

  …You're the meanest old woman that I've ever seen.

  He pushes himself inside of her and pumps. She lets herself get into the moment, but as soon as it is over, she finds herself regretting it…while he zips up the pants of his suit and kisses her gently on the lips, whispering, same time next week? She regrets having started it all. They are both married with children, and this is only an affair. Could never be anything else, even if she dreamt about it. The sex is great, but she wants more than just seeing him on her lunch break. But she can never tell him. She can never explain to him how much she hates this awkward moment that follows the sex.

  “They’re expecting me at the office…I have a meeting,” he says, and puts his tie back on. “I’d better…”

  …Hit the road, Jack!

  She finally opens her eyes with a loud gasp. The bright light hurts her. Water is being splashed in her face. She can’t breathe. The bathtub is slippery when she tries to get up. Her eyes lock with another set of eyes. The eyes of a man. He is staring at her with a twisted smile. She gasps again, suddenly remembering those dark chili eyes.

  “I guess if you said so…I'd have to pack my things and go,” he sings.

  “You,” she gasps. Breathing is hard for her. She feels like she is still choking. She is hyperventilating. Panicking.

  The man smiles. On his neck crawls a snake. How does that old saying go again? Red, black, yellow kills a fellow? This one is all of that, all those colors. It stares at her while moving its tongue back and forth. The man is holding a washcloth in his hand. She looks down at her naked body. The smell of chlorine is strong and makes her eyes water.

  “You tried to kill me,” she says, while panting with anxiety.

  I have to get home. Help me. I have to get home to my children! Oh, God. I can hear their voices! Am I going mad? I think I can hear them!

  “I guess I didn’t do a very good job, then,” he answers. His chillingly calm voice is piercing through every bone in her body.

  “I’ll try again. That’s right!”

  2

  May 2012

  She had never been more beautiful than in this exact moment. No woman ever had. So fragile, her skin so pale it almost looked bluish. The man who called himself the Snakecharmer stared at her body. It was still in the bathtub. He was still panting from the exertion, his hands shaking and hurting from strangling the girl. He felt so aroused in this moment, staring at the dead body. It was the most fascinating thing in the world. How the
body simply ceased to function. And almost as fascinating was what followed next. The human decaying process. It wasn’t something new. Fascination with death had occurred all throughout human history, characterized by obsessions with death and all things related to death. The Egyptians mummified their dead. He had always wished he could do the same. Keep his dead forever and ever. He remembered as a child how he would sometimes lie down in front of the mirror and try to lie completely still and look at himself, imagining he was looking at a dead body. He would capture cats and kill them and keep them in his room, just to watch what would happen to them. He wanted so badly to stop the decaying process, he wanted them to remain the same always and never leave.

  The Snakecharmer stared at the girl with fascination in his eyes. He caught his breath and calmed down again. He still felt the adrenalin rushing through his veins while he finished washing the girl. He washed away all the dirt, all the smells on her body. He reached down and cleaned her thoroughly between her legs. Scrubbed her to make sure he got all the dirt away, all the filth and impurities.

  Then, he dried her with a towel before he pulled her onto the bathroom floor. His companions, his two pet Coral snakes, were sliding across her dead body. He grabbed one and let it slide across his arm while petting it. Then he knelt next to the girl and stroked her gently across her hair, making sure it wasn’t in her face. Her blue eyes stared into the ceiling.

 

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