The 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.

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.

The impact made me dizzy, but the glass remained unbroken. Thick smoke filled the air, and the roaring flames surrounded me. My vision blurred, and I collapsed to the ground. Just then, I heard a loud crash, and the glass shattered.

Careful. Then the other one started climbing too. Both of them. Climbing toward me. "Please be careful," I whispered. "Please don't fall." The baby birds had finished their meal. They huddled together in the center of the nest, making soft chirping sounds. Content. Full. I looked at them, really looked at them. They were kind of... cute. In a terrifying, oversized way. Just babies. Just hungry babies who didn't know any better. This wasn't their fault. They hadn't asked to be born in a nest on a cliff. Hadn't asked for a mother who hunted strange prey.

Inside, dozens of birds flitted from perch to perch—small ones, mostly white and soft grey, chirping softly. “It’s so beautiful… for someone in the Mafia,” June said quietly, clearly surprised as she looked around the garden. Her arms were crossed, but you could still hear the wonder in her voice. Zinnia had wandered over to the big birdcage. She gently slid her fingers through the narrow spaces between the bars, moving slowly and carefully so she wouldn’t scare the birds. She crouched down a little, holding out her hand, calm and patient. “Zinnia, what are you doing?” I asked, half amused, half worried she might scare them or get pecked.

She forced herself to stay calm. At last, the people around them began to move. Sienna seized her chance and ran toward the exit. But the plane was still falling. Boom! A deafening crash split the air. The force of the impact sent Sienna and Riley flying to the ground. Pain ripped through her body. When Sienna opened her eyes, she saw jagged pieces of the wing that had impaled itself deep into her and Riley’s lower legs. “Riley!” Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Zayden’s voice.

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

That one moment when she'd been my Mum and nothing else. The other reason was because, after the monsters left, I would curl up on the pile of crumpled clothes at the bottom of my wardrobe, close the door, switch on the torch and look at the pictures of all the birds. From the bright blue and yellow macaw, to the sunburst orange crown of the cockatoo, from the rainbow-billed toucan, to the striking red of the scarlet ibis, I learnt everything I could about them. I drank in every single word until I could recite it off by heart. Memorised every picture like it was a photograph I had taken myself. Looking at the birds in all their

I didn’t like it. I turned to look at grandma. She smiled. “Two happy birds have visited two people sitting on a bench under a cocoa tree,” she said and walked away. Esther laughed again. She still had no idea of what grandma was trying to imply. “They are called black-cheeked love birds. They like playing a lot,” Esther said and giggled. I was surprised to hear the name of the birds. I didn’t know. The name of the birds further threw light on grandma's superstitious predictions. I got worried.

Aahana's POV There were a group of three birds, they had white plumage, buff tinged heads, and black wingtips. They were chirping relentlessly without stopping. As we walked towards them they were scared, apprehensive of our arrival they gathered at the last point of the space they were seated in. They were so afraid that they were hitting beak continuously on wall in order to find a place to escape. Mr Dark was approaching them with such huge steps, anyone could get scared, they are just pure little souls.