The Sparrow Novels & Stories

His eyes scanned my features while he spoke, creating an impression that I was inferior to him. I felt familiar anger building up inside me when his words triggered a bristling reaction. The icy tone of my voice conveyed that Sparrow's manner of addressing me was unacceptable. Throughout the years you had multiple opportunities to join Dawn's life and yet ignored them. Don't pretend like you care now.”

After Ivy left, Sparrow entered with a formal bow. "I am Sparrow Wilson, granddaughter of Nanny Winters. Elder Morgan has assigned me to serve you alongside Ivy." I studied her cautiously. "You mean to spy on me for Elder Morgan." Sparrow didn't flinch. "My loyalty is to Elder Morgan, yes. But through her, it extends to you." Her frankness was refreshing. "At least you're honest about it." Alone at last, I reflected on Elder Morgan's naive faith in family reconciliation. I had lived through my parents' rejection once before.

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand and I look down, seeing a new message from Sparrow, who I have a date with tonight. -Meet me out front tonight at nine on the dot. I won't tolerate tardiness, Harley. And as for your outfit, I want you in something black, short, and wearing no panties...If you fucking disobey my order, I'll slice them to shreds with my knife. Don't be late, Harley, and don't disappoint me either. - Sparrow I almost choked on the sip of my coffee that slid down my throat the wrong way as I reread his message, completely shocked at the dominant nature. What am I supposed to say back to that?

Oh well. “As you wish,” I say with a dramatic wave of my hand “You can be my loyal bodyguard, Zen!” “We should discuss salary, My Lady.” “I’ll leave Sparrow to you once I’m gone.” He glances down at me, a brow raised “Sparrow?” I pat the horse’s cheek “He’s fast like one, isn’t he?” Hawk or Falcon or some other bird doesn’t seem to suit. I lean down to look at Sparrow. “What do you think, Sparrow?” I ask him, moving his hair away from his eye

Catherine's eyes twinkled with joy as she ogled at the sparrow. "Oh my God. You pretty little cutie pie, I never knew Mr. Mute would have a pet sparrow. You little thing; you're so gorgeous. I wonder what's your name blue." Catherine said cheerfully as she talked to the sparrow as the sparrow made chirrup notes as if talking back. "I love you already." Catherine smiled as she put her forefinger in the cage and teased the sparrow. "Thank God I found someone to talk to in this brooding, silent room of his," Catherine said as she moved away.

The continuous rain pattering on the window disturbed my rest even though I never slept. With eyes closed, I am habitual of laying awake and listening to the sparrows in the distance chirping, and often they fly in my balcony to sing their own melodies of the day. I don't speak sparrow-ish; someday, I hope to comprehend. I stretched my right arm on the bed and looked at the mirror painted with those miniscule drops. Each mingling in an old fashioned way to become a family of their own. My eyes remained glued to the window pane.

I seemed to have understood this situation. Demon sparrows are known to have a powerful core that can make a human immortal. Although the hunt for their race significantly decreased ever since the devils took abode in the Mortal Realm, that doesn’t mean that it has completely disappeared. I tried to sound as soft as possible, “Don’t be afraid. We are not here to hurt you nor your baby. Alright?” “Will it work?” Jethro asked me, but I ignored him. I looked at the sparrow mom, “I guess.”

They spilled out of me in Romanian and Japanese at the same time, overlapping like double exposure: “Lumină lină, ceață blândă—ridică aripa frântă.” “Yasashii kiri, hikari yo—tsubasa o naose.” The mist answered. It rose from the cracks in the concrete, silver and warm, wrapping the bird like cotton. Light—soft, not blinding—poured from the center of my right palm where the spiral sometimes slept. The broken wing straightened with a tiny pop. Bones knitted. Feathers smoothed. The sparrow blinked once, looked up at me with black bead eyes, and launched straight into the sky.

The easily six inch wide wreath of monkshood surrounding the bird is what has set my beast off. “Well?” she asks, her voice muffled by the pillow and her arm. “Right here…” I trace the sparrow, “is a sparrow.” “Like what you call me?” her delight is evident in her voice. “Yes baby. The greeks believed it to symbolise deep love and connection.” My finger drifts to the deadly wreath encircling the little sparrow.

He gives me whiplash with his back and forth emotions. A little sparrow sits on the windowsill in front of me grooming his feathers, he looks so carefree. I keep waiting for that moment when my life will finally begin, but it forever remains just out of reach. I watch the little sparrow fly off into the woods, joining the chorus of birdsong surrounding the house. How I yearn for that same freedom, to just spread my wings and fly. I yearn for the freedom do decide my own destiny. I want to live my life on my own terms.