Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

I Can See Clearly Now

I’m so sick of being locked up in a cage. I’m a bird with wings, and I deserve to fly. Fly, fly away, like my brothers could, but I never got the chance to. You know why? Because as soon as mum taught me how to flap my tiny little black wings, a net surrounded me and the next thing I knew I was at PETCO, being stared at by kids who are too old to be sucking on their thumb.

Well, I have to admit they got me. None of my other brothers were dumb enough to just flap out in the open when mum clearly warned us of danger…not my fault she never told me about humans.

Ew, a little kid with peanut-butter is sticking his hand in my cage. Why would they buy a bird for scenery? I want to fly, fly away like my brothers did. Fly and (hopefully) never return. Humans are disgusting. The way they eat my ancestors with me in the same room makes me sick. They don’t think I see the cooking chicken. Ahh, Fred!

Oh, and that cat. When will the humans notice him opening the cage door? He almost got me once, but luckily I moved behind the other bird.

Ah! The glorious door is open! Now I shall try my great escape. The escape I’ve been planning for exactly seven months two days thirty-three seconds. Tiptoe to the door…pull it open…fly out! Just barely to the door—smack!

“Aw, silly bird. Honey, I told you not to buy that Windex.”

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