Other Birds Novels & Stories

A pair of binoculars rested on his lap. Catching sight of her, he pressed a finger to his lips, and gestured for her to join him. "Look," he whispered, pointing to a pair of fairly large birds. Pretty, with bluish-gray heads, pearly-pink breasts and brown wings mottled with black, they pecked at the ground some distance away. "Do you know what they are?" "Pigeons?" she ventured.

The soft whoosh of wings, as nocturnal birds took flight. Just when despair gripped him, a faint glow appeared on the horizon. Kris's heart lifted – dawn was breaking. Clouds, tinted pink and gold unfurled like wispy brushstrokes across the sky. The moon, now a silver crescent, hung low. Birds stirred, their morning songs swelling: Robins trilled, their melodic voices soaring. Sparrows chirped their staccato calls punctuating the air. Finches sang, their sweet, warbling notes filling the forest.

I silently prayed for the strength to say the right words and offer her some comfort. I could hear low whispers coming from the kitchen. As we entered the only thing that caught my attention was the 3 Phoenix birds on the table. I had somehow forgotten that I had found one and now there were three in the kitchen. Each one was a different color. One was silver, one was black, and the last was a deep blue. I felt a chill run through my body as I realized the significance of the three Phoenix birds. They were a sign of something special. They all turned to me and squawked as they fell to me, lowering their heads as if bowing when they raised their heads the Blue one spoke

“That's a Scarlet Tanager.” Good job, Audobon. These are Gog and Magog, the Birds of Death. They fit my color scheme. I floated on my back, watching Gog and Magog fly circles above us. “Interesting names. So what happens next?” I asked. Well if this is a dream, you wake up.

The clouds were moving very slowly, it looked really calming and fluffy as cotton when looking at from her point of view. The birds in the sky flew in groups and flocks, some flew with a companion, others were in various groups of various numbers. The species were in a vast variety of kinds too, as their feathers are reflecting against the beautiful beams of the sunlight that slowly descends down the sky for the sunset moment. The hue of the beams sent shadows to be reflected from the birds in a flock, the streets were almost quiet, and not a bark of a dog can be heard from the silence.

I watched in awe as they leaped effortlessly across the meadows, their gentle leaps leaving no trace of disturbance. Further along, a group of pheasants took flight, their vibrant feathers painting the sky with streaks of crimson, gold, and emerald. Their wings beat in perfect harmony, creating a symphony of sound that echoed through the air. It was as if nature had orchestrated this spectacle solely for my enjoyment.

My friend's safety was more important at the moment. Knox barked and snapped at the lizards, unperturbed by Isaac's wolf form. We struggled toward Ruthie and Phoebe, making little progress, as there seemed to be an endless number of reptiles joining the fray. Then suddenly, the dark sky above us filled with the screeches of owls as they swooped down to attack Peter's pets. They scurried, quick as lightning toward the cover of bushes and building porches. Hawks, ravens, blue jays, and other birds joined the owls. Everyone paused and watched as the birds poured from the sky like a swarm of bats, scooping up reptiles as if they'd happened upon a delicious smorgas

He bobbed his head like a real bird of prey to bring the figure into focus. He tapped Grace on the shoulder, “Hey Grace, I think we should get a move on.”

Birds chirped softly from the trees. Insects buzzed gently in the background. From time to time, the distant cry of a wild animal echoed through the woods. The wind moved through the trees, making the leaves sway in a slow, steady rhythm. Everything felt calm and peaceful. Alive.. Olivia sat by the window, completely drawn to the view outside. Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she watched everything outside, the birds flying from branch to branch, a deer running quickly between the trees, the sunlight touching the ground.

Before I turned fifteen, I lived like a weed. Cold, damp, barely surviving. Then I met Ethan Hayes and Summer Reed. The first home-cooked meal anyone ever made for me was made by Summer. The first dress I ever owned was bought by Summer. The first birthday anyone ever celebrated for me was something Summer planned down to the smallest detail. She would carefully put ointment on the chilblains covering my hands. And she would tell everyone, over and over, that I was her best friend. As for Ethan... He was the one who pulled me away from a group of laughing street punks. He was the one who kicked open a door and rushed me to the hospital when my fever reached 104 degrees. He was the