Solitary Bird Novels & Stories

She laid back down against the bed and closed her eyes, listening to the birds that usually sing on the tree beside her window every morning, afternoon, and night. Her mother had thought that putting her room next to the bird would serve as some kind of disturbance to her, and would probably drive her crazy but that had never been the case, instead, hearing the birds sing was some kind of solitude that gets, the kind that she could find an escape in when things were rough like most of the time. She would after any beatings she had taken from her mother, come up to her room and listen to them and she would be able to close her eyes and breath, go somewhere else where her mother never was.

The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting shadows upon his path and lending an ethereal touch to the gloomy atmosphere. The night echoed with the symphony of wildlife, yet Damon found himself utterly alone amidst the wilderness. The rustling leaves and gentle hooting of owls played a melancholic melody that seemed to resonate with his somber thoughts. It was as if the birds and leaves were the only witnesses to his solitude, their presence offering him a sliver of companionship in his desolate journey. He felt more lonely than he had ever been.

My saviour. My lifeline. “It’s okay, Little Bird…” His voice finds me through the chaos I find myself lost in. “He won’t hurt you.” But he is… By taking you away from me and putting his hands on me… “Nathanial….” Andrea says his name in a clipped manner. “What is the meaning of this? Take your hands off Birdene this instant.” Spinning us around to face Andrea, a look of helplessness, for me, gleams in her hazel eyes that almost look identical to mine.

Finches added their high-pitched trills, while blackbirds, with their distinctive calls, added depth and richness to the composition. With each note that filled the air, the birds seemed to dance, their wings fluttering in rhythm as they soared and glided through the sky. Their feathers, a kaleidoscope of colors, created a stunning display against the backdrop of the azure heavens. The iridescent blues of blue jays, the fiery oranges of orioles, and the vibrant yellows of canaries intertwined, forming a living tapestry of vibrant hues.

My legs tremble so much that I don't know how I'm still standing. The forest is so silent that I can only hear the sound of my stealthy and painful breathing. The birds that I used to hear singing every day when I woke up seem to have moved away. Making this forest even more depressing. I have never seen any kind of animal or bird in person, only the sounds they emit. Birds are said to be carnivores, that they feed on domestic animals. That they are lost in the forest or abandoned by their owners, to be devoured.

Since the bird was in a trance, it did what was asked before it let out a shrill cry and burnt to ashes. That was the speciality of the bird. They are loyal powerful birds often used for spying and one needs to ask them to tell their secret willingly which is impossible because they kill you immediately once you ask the question but if you're successful, they die immediately while their dying cries are only heard by their master and the killer. The one thing people normally forget is that they come in pairs but by killing one, the other too is already damaged. Gwen misted again and found the second bird near to collapsing who was spying on her aunts.

All he had was cold air, loneliness, and a voice in his head telling him to hide. The parts that longed for protection, for a safe haven, for someone to simply care. He shook off the memory and reached out carefully. His fingers brushed around the fragile bird, lifting it gently. It stopped flapping and looked at him. It didn’t chirp. Didn’t move. It just stared. Zeil tilted his head. “Where’s your mum?” he whispered. The bird didn’t answer, of course. It only blinked slowly. But it didn’t seem scared. Not at all. It felt safe in his hands, like it knew him. Like it had been waiting for him.

One by one, the needles pierced through. The excruciating pain in my fingertips was unbearable. I couldn't hold back anymore and let out a scream. Just then, Jasmine's phone rang. It was Harold. She immediately signaled the woman to take off her socks and stuff them in my mouth. Grinning, she crouched in front of me and put the call on speaker. Harold's voice rang in my ears. "Jas, my wedding convoy is almost there. Are you ready? Don't embarrass me."

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.

As I continue to fly through the sky keeping my senses perked, I feel it. I feel the cold, bone-chilling sensation of nothingness. That shadow of endless loneliness that leaves my feathers perpetually ruffled. I dive down, bringing myself lower to the Earth but too high to be noticed and keep my eyes trained, scouring the ground for signs of eyti. It doesn’t take me long to spot them. Below is a small forest, but I can see one part of the forest is completely shrouded in darkness as if it’s devouring all light around it. As I approach, my ears pick up the unmistakable sound of snarling. There’s only one being who snarls like that.