Other Birds Novels & Stories

Looking up, she spotted a black bird flying in the direction of her home. The cawing echoed through the woods, piercing through the silence like a knife. Its sound was both eerie and comforting, as if the bird was guiding Miranda on her journey home. The cawing was not continuous, but intermittent, almost as if the bird was speaking in a language Miranda couldn't understand. Its voice was rough and hoarse, yet had a strange melody to it.

It was evening time and the sky almost turned orange and yellow shade looking so ethereal that everyone had to stop and capture the beauty of the sky in their mobile phones. The birds were returning back to their respective shelters but someone was coming to a whole different and new place after leaving their home. They didn't know how they would be between new people with foreign languages and ethics.

And we young ones would only laugh without realizing how sweet their memories were, and how they wanted us to learn from them. “Yes. They are playing. Two happy birds playing after having a good meal perhaps,” I confirmed. “They will soon go hungry and fly away to find food. That’s how birds are; they do nothing apart from eating, fly around gregariously, and play,” I added. Grandma smiled again, and looked at me in the eye. “A young man just sees two birds playing, but an old woman who understands nature and how it works sees a good omen. I hope you don’t call it a mere superstition if I should explain it to you.”

He joined in, till they were rolling on the floor. She looked up into the sky, unable to stop her laugh, watching the sun set into the ocean, the lines of orange, red and yellow, as birds flew in flocks drawing a triangle as they were all headed to the same direction, a place that seemed to be home, home to all of them.

If he wanted too, he could slice me up with them they were so long. “Milady don’t move, if you aggravate him, he could burn your face and hair.” Roselinda spoke with concern. “To be honest I’m not worried. We have large birds like this in my world, none that can go up in flames, but large none the less. I am familiar with birds. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have by now. Do you see how his neck feathers are fluffed up, and how he is turning his head to the side? He is content and curious. Did you know that usually the bigger the bird, the smarter? In my world, birds can learn like little children. But here, they are probably much more advanced. This one is probably a genius with all the

“What kind of bird was she?” “I don’t know the difference in birds. A red one? Maybe a dove? Wait, those are white or gray. Red, red. Red is a cardinal, right?” He muses confused. Does not seem like that smart of a guy but hey, who am I to judge. Maybe everyone is like this, and I just haven’t realized with my very limited exposure in recent years.

I asked to be sure. "I have a feeling it is." He said looking up to the sound of fluttering wings and I did too to see the birds as dark as the night sky resting on the branches of the trees towering over us and peering down at us with their dark beady eyes and I gulped in strange irritation inching closer to Orian. "Are you scared?" He asked with a dark chuckle, "You shouldn't be, they are just birds." "I don't like them grump, I think they are bad omen."

Even my heart skipped a beat! But suddenly, quick shadows flickered overhead and a rusty scream echoed over the Citadel. Lesana opened her eyes in horror and they reflected black birds soaring in circles. Crows... Harbingers of death, scavengers. Their hoarse voice fell from the sky, echoing. Where are these nasty birds from? And why won't anyone chase them away? Cold sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Everyone knows: where the raven circles, death walks there.