Bird Box Novels & Stories

“You’ve never seen one, my lady?” “No, they are beautiful,” my attention was drawn to one who filtered to the ground, chirping sadly. It looked like a baby. “Poor thing,” I murmured. “Can I touch them?” “They are well trained so they won’t cause any harm," Teal explained. I crouched down. “He’s too young to fly, isn’t he?” Teal’s eyes flicked toward the little orange bird. “Perhaps. But they all learn eventually.” I took a careful step closer to the little Phoenix. He looked up at me with bright, gold-ringed eyes.

Larissa hated the incinerator. She had been one of the few people allowed down in the basement under the science wing. It had been specially made for the school as one of the few dump sites for the animals they used for the dissection part of some of the classes. It was the place that other schools also could use. Though this was rare that they would even start it this early in the school year. Larissa didn’t know why the older woman wanted to use it, though. She was sometimes a little off on her timing. Though she did always have a reason why. Larissa didn’t care too much in the end. Gabe walked into the room behind her after a few minutes.

| Brixton | "I forgive you, Brixton, for all of it. For the stalking, the secrets, the lying—all of it." When we make it back to the big tree, I wrap my little bird in my arms and push her back against the huge trunk, relieved to hear her say those simple little words.

The inscription on the box read ‘ HN’ which is Viv’s brand name. I ripped through the ribbon holding the package together, barely able to contain my excitement. Only as I lifted the lid on the box, my excitement dropped several notches. A dead bird lay on the clothes, in a splatter of blood and gore. My name is written inside the box, in bright red. The bird is devoid of it's head, it's wings broken and entrails hanging out. . Whoever did this must have snapped it's neck and proceeded to slice it's gut open.

The label read: Jason Reed- Personal & Confidential Jason’s assistant almost didn’t bring it up, but something about it felt… strange. Jason opened it in his office. Inside was an antique wooden box, its lid carved with intricate swirls and patterns. He felt the weight of it before he even lifted the latch. When he opened it, the air in the room seemed to shift. Inside, on a bed of velvet, lay a small wooden bird, polished smooth, its wings delicately carved. Bella’s breath caught the moment she saw it. “That’s… that’s George’s bird,” she whispered. Jason turned to her. “You’re sure?”

Her doe eyes flicking to the ground then back up. I stayed still, scanning them one by one. Mara moved first lowering herself onto the bench along the wall. "Smart not to trust right away," Tax said. "But running? Pointless. You'll drop down before you make ten meters. And the studs outside..they love a chase. Gets them worked up. Breeding gets rougher when they're like that." "How many have tried?" I asked Tax laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Dozens. Most end up in the box for a week..The box is a very dark hole with no food and just enough water to keep you alive. Some come back broken. Others... don't come back."

I open the door, “hey Brooklyn, why are you out here by yourself, are you not feeling well?” A smile forms on her face and her hand lifts, her finger points up into a tree, “that bird is trying to get her baby bird back in the nest, but the baby keeps falling out of it.” She swings her legs and her frown forms again, “do you think Momma’s ever get too tired to help their babies.”

After Selby left, as well as after they have cleaned the bakeshop, Iris went to the kitchen to see that the bird. It had already woken up as it sat on the clothed box chirping its way in the kitchen. This made Iris smile at the sudden singing of the bird in its little boxed house

It was about the size of a jewelry box, tied with a crimson ribbon that seemed too bright, too cheerful for the foreboding atmosphere. I approached cautiously, heart hammering. That's when I noticed a thin line of dark red liquid seeping from beneath the box and trickling slowly into the drain. Blood. My stomach clenched painfully. With trembling fingers, I reached for the box, untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid. The stench hit me first, metallic and rotten. Then I saw it. Nestled on a bed of black velvet lay a small bird. A canary. Its once-bright yellow feathers now matted with blood, its tiny head twisted at an unnatural angle.

I breathe out when my back collides with the large glass window that overlooks the garden. He cages me in, placing his hands on the glass beside my head, towering over me as he peers down at me. “If I allow you to leave, Little Bird, Flynn will capture you and drag you back to his den. He has no intention of seeing you set free. He wants to keep you in a cage for him to toy with.” His voice is low and dangerous. “He won’t have a chance in hell finding me if you help me escape the country. I heard that you have connections in Italy and Dublin?”