One That Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest Audiobook Novels & Stories

"It feels like a place where you can actually hear yourself think. I bet you’d like studying here." "I would," I said. "It beats the noisy student center back home." We walked through the rows of books. Jax stopped. He pulled a small book from the shelf and handed it to me. It was a book of poems. "Read the one on page 42," he said. I opened it. The poem was about a bird that finally learned to fly after being kept in a gold cage. I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat. I didn't know what to say. I just held the book.

I think it’s blood, but it would have to be animal blood, and it’s old, at least a few days You’re doing amazing, now listen, use your ears and listen to the forest I concentrated on my paws hitting the ground and the dull thudding they were making. I can hear the water trickling over rocks from the creek and there are so many birds. I focused up ahead to a thumping sound, but what was it? I followed the sound and then it all came together, once I used all my senses together it’s like I was transported. I was suddenly running behind Smith, but not really running, more like hovering or flying. I don’t know.

Even though I had seen it twice now, I still could not believe that this place existed, that it was a reality covered in transcendence. I ran to the little oak tree like a three-year-old girl. The nightingales did not budge as I entered their dominion for they were all busy with their carol. I tapped a branch. Nothing. I threw a stone. Still nothing. And so, I shouted. And all of the fowls flew off their nests like a blanket of black feathers, and then they scattered until there was none left. Long enough that, I noticed that the meadow quieted down. For a second I thought that they would migrate somewhere else because of my insolence, but they flew back again altogether.

So tired that I just wanted to sleep for eternity. The steam was filling the room in a wet cloud. I morphed the clouds into animals having them float around the room. I smiled as a raven swooped around made just of clouds. Such a beautiful bird it was... A knock sounded from the door. I closed my eyes not moving to open it. “Valerie open the door or I am coming in.” Justin spoke. My mind was elsewhere. I would probably never leave this castle. Jumping out the window may be better than fighting against fate. If I was lucky the wind would catch me and bring me far away to safety. Far far away.

Today’s my day off. I should sleep in. If I could, I totally would. So what’s stopping me from languishing in my bed? Seventy-four pounds of fluff is trying to suffocate me as she climbs onto my chest shaking in fear because an ambulance sped past our building with the sirens blasting. Whoever named her Tinkerbell can go to hell with their sense of humor

Upon hearing that, the cuckoo on James’ shoulder flew away unhappily, as if being with James was a humiliation. “Where are you going?” James reached out to grab the cuckoo. It was caught before it could fly far. “Why do you have a bird?” Truett asked, confused. “It hasn’t even reached the Yuraeceon First Rank.” “Yeah, but this bird is quite pretty.” Xitlaly could not resist such tiny things. Her eyes shone brightly.

I followed the voice and saw an old lady with grey hair standing next to a small house. Colt flew to this old lady and held her tightly. The old lady looked very satisfied and closed her eyes. "Mrs. Flynn! I was just thinking about you! How's the warbler I made for you? Do you like it?" Colt asked. "Yes, it functions well and sings beautifully for me at night, but there's a very tiny problem..." the old lady replied. As they were talking, a big iron bird with flapping wings and a razor-sharp peak and blade-like feathers, which was about three times the size of an average warbler, swooped at us.

she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the silence of the room. On the other side, under the shadow of a dimly lit estate, a man and a woman stood silently, their eyes trained on the sky. They watched as a large eagle flew into the Crimson Knight pack, carrying something clutched in its talons. After a few minutes, the bird returned after circling the estate.

That evening, just as a flicker of sadness threatened to surface, Darrel mentioned a private concert being held on the grounds. Darrel and I sat in the garden, listening to the elegant strings, and I felt absolutely euphoric. I spent a few rare, peaceful days at the estate, far from the blood and betrayal. It wasn't until late one night that I returned to my guest room. Darrel's butler knocked on my door, holding an encrypted phone. "Miss Abby, you have over a hundred missed calls." As he spoke, the phone began to ring again. He held it out to me.

Then it made a sound I had never heard before. Small. Broken. Almost childlike. Its hand rose, trembling, and pressed against the glass. “Red,” it whispered. “Yes,” I said. “Red River Crossing.” The golden eyes widened. Its breathing grew uneven. I turned the page to the woman in the blue shawl. Subject One’s claws scraped the floor once. “Mama.” Caleb looked down. Daniel turned his face away. My own throat tightened so hard I had to wait before speaking. “We found your sketchbook.”