A Case of Birds
It is possible to ever escape one's past life?
A question to which Jean Abelard had always known the answer but to which, as the elevator bore him relentlessly to the 15th floor of the Hôtel Pèlerins, he replied once more.
Never. Liar, thief. Murderer. Never.
He stopped the elevator early, as was his habit, and walked the rest of the way. The same walls that he had passed years before. The same door at the end of the corridor. Having been summoned, his arrival was foreknown; he entered without knocking.
An explosion of feathers, frantic wings beating dust and grime into his face. The high-ceilinged room with its ornate mouldings and heavy, Louis XIV furniture, familiar after two decades; the scroll-armed chairs and heavy bureau. All with an inches-thick frosting of guano. And on every perch and crevice in the place, the birds. Sharp talons, black-bead eyes, insect-like twitching. And the noise...
"Did I never warn you of the dangers of psittacosis?" he gasped.
The man in the chair smiled.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (5 so far!)
Damn that capital P in Psittacosis! Just ignore it, until the edit function is working...
- #70 Posted 4 years ago
Edit function now working.
An intriguing story. Sounds like any room my children have been in for an hour. Although they have, at last, stopped shitting on the furniture.
- #75 Posted 4 years ago
Bizarre little tale. It's a seed of an idea, at least.
- #77 Posted 4 years ago
The editing does work! Now I can tinker to my heart's content.
- #80 Posted 4 years ago
Ah how very peculiar in your use of hinting. Intriguing.
- #90 Posted 4 years ago
- Published 4 years ago.
- Story viewed 15 times and rated 0 times.
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