Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
100 Word Story: Bird Flew (Fiction)
My parakeet Angela died today. Keeled over.
I don’t know what to make of it. She was so well taken care of, doted on. I fed her raspberries with my fingers.
My father said I pampered Angela, spoiled her until she was weak with dependence. He said I should let her fly, not carry her stuffed in my pocket like a tissue. She was flimsy like that. He was right.
I let her fly once and she left the house. She beat her wings against the window and made a terrible fluttering racket. It was a nightmare, worse than death.
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Photo by Fredrick john on Unsplash
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Just listened to “The Parish Hall” and “The Breakfast Room.” Love hearing you read your work.
Just listened to “Billy,” Jan. So touching. And you do a wonderful job of reading it.
He did fly around the room, but when he had to poop, he would fly to the finger of someone in the room and we’d hold him over his cage and he would poop! My mother was such a wonderful animal trainer. Don’t know why he just didn’t fly to the cage, but he’d had his orders from my mom!
So sorry, Red. How old was she? I remember when our parakeet Chipper died when I was a little girl. He was perched on my mother’s finger and she was clipping his beak and he just pitched forward on her finger and fell to the floor. So shocking….