Solitary Bird Novels & Stories

On the train to college registration, my heart gave a sharp, agonizing flutter. I leaned over the bunk and tapped the frame below me. "Mom, Dad, my heart hurts. Can you ask Julian to grab my medicine?" Thunder flashed outside, illuminating the compartment. The five other bunks were empty. I had been forgotten again. Ever since my younger sister, Lily Hayes, fell ill last year, I became an afterthought. “She needs all our attention,” they told me. “Stop competing for love.” So I ate alone, studied alone, and learned to keep my quiet during my worst heart episodes. Then came the next excuse, my grades were too good. Seeing my success would stress Lily to the point of breakdown. So

My childhood sweetheart, Basil Nolan, died the night before I was going to confess my feelings to him. Every bone in his body was shattered, leaving him mutilated beyond recognition. It was all because he had stumbled upon the golden boy, Calvin Holloway, of the Zenirford elite, intimately wrapped up with his mistress, ruining the mood and killing the buzz. Later, I became that heir's new kept woman. I drank until my stomach bled for him, risked my life in street races for him, and knelt on the pavement in the freezing dead of winter to lick his boots clean. Finally, I managed to warm his cold heart. "I can give you anything in the world, except my heart," he told me. I smiled, wonderi

She stood there, stiff and unmoving. The snow began to fall harder, blurring the world into a blinding sheet of white. I couldn't stand to look at her for another second. I turned around and walked away. The sudden movement must have startled the birds nearby, because one of them flapped its wings and flew off. The remaining one stood alone in the snow, lowering its head to preen its feathers. The sunlight washed over it, brilliant and bright. Then, it looked up, let out a sharp cry, and took off into a completely different sky.

"It lit up." "Yes. It lit up." She turned her own small hand, warm with her own body heat, over and placed it palm up, resting it quietly in his palm. He didn't close his hand around it, just let it rest there. Her palm was warm. His was cool. Outside the window, in the pine forest, a Snowfeather bird with wings so translucent they seemed nearly invisible alighted on the highest pine crown. It ruffled its feathers, tilted its head back, and let out a thin, high cry, like the first crack forming on a sheet of ice.

“That’s exactly what it looks like. Herons always look like that.” He scrolled. Found the mockingbird. Read the description with focused deliberateness. “Texas state bird,” he murmured quietly, to himself. “It mimics the calls of other birds.” He paused. His voice went different — less reading, more thinking. “It copies sounds that don’t belong to it. And it’s still considered a real bird.” I looked at him. He was staring at the phone, but the look was inward. Somewhere else. “Reed,” I said.

I can only feel myself falling before the ground makes its presence known to me when I feel it’s hardness under my feet. Slowly, I open my eyes and look around me. I am standing by a river bank, surrounded by trees. The sun is slowly disappearing behind the horizon, taking the light with it. The birds are returning to their nests and the distant murmur of some children, playing by the river floats in the evening air.

A song echoed down the corridor: "Oh, at the grove, at the Dalvira Nightingale chirping! He is his whole bird The nest is called. Some of them and some of them Nightingale chirping! He has his whole bird The nest is called. Oh, at the grove, at the Dalvira There is music playing. Bass is buzzing, the violin cries My dear is walking. Some of them and some of them There is music playing. Bass is buzzing, the violin cries Nice dear walks Oh, at the grove, at the Dalvira I stand alone. I cry, I'm tired, I still weeping Cute for you Some of them and some of them

Sol Ming has no idea of what it was, she knows this is not the bird called Yuya. In a certain tree there are scattered leaves falling down on the ground. It looks good to look at for a while. The pair of small birds with gradual blue feather was standing in one of the branches of it. Making a few chirps to each other and adding up to the sounds of the forest. The moment Sol Ming raised her eyes again, the pair of golden eyes fell on her, making her look away at the sight of beautiful birds. She cannot help to scold more deep inside.

As she walked through it she was somewhere else. She was standing in a darkened cave by herself. Upset and alone is the feeling that coursed between through her veins. Even now as the dream faded, she had the feelings. She saw the last images again in her head. It was the shattered bones scattered around her. They were calling out to her. She walked down the hallway made of stone until she could find the voices that were in her head.

It was a beautiful place to grow up, and it was going to be a terrible pain when I left. Part of me always hoped I would end up like my parents, waiting an eternity to meet my mate. I didn’t want anyone, even if they weren’t my mate, I didn’t have boyfriends. I was quite happy “flying solo”. As a female wolf, I have to follow my mate to their pack. Which meant leaving my brothers, my parents, and a town that, well, they probably wouldn’t mind. Gareth knew I was daydreaming as we walked, so he just directed me where to go. When we got to our mother’s office, he patted me on the head again.