The Beast
Avian Fantasy | Read Time: 6 min | 1,568 words
UPDATE: Listen while you read along!
“This meeting will come to order!” Lady Blackbird spread her wings and let out a rising squee to silence the group. “Is Harold here?” Feathers ruffled throughout the treehouse as everyone looked around. Harold was nowhere to be found.
“I’m here…” Flying in through the window with a wing barely flapping to keep him steady, was Harold, the vulture, followed by his two cousins. Harold landed poorly and he used his beak to stop him from crashing into the far wall, digging it into the hardwood floor.
“What’s happened?” Lady Blackbird dropped down to the floor beside Harold. She could tell his left was badly injured, possibly broken.
“It’s grown more powerful. We were attacked from behind…Didn’t see it coming till it was too late…” Harold struggled to speak. A pair of geese worked together to push a bowl filled with water over.
“He speaks the truth, Lady Blackbird. We didn’t see it. But we heard it—”
“I wanted to go after it but my dear cousin didn’t want to leave Harold’s side.”
“That was a wise decision. We must know our enemy before we attack it blindly. Or you could all have been killed. It must be stopped. Are we finally in agreement?”
Echoes of ‘yes’ and ‘kill the beasts’ could be heard throughout the treehouse. Lady Blackbird returned to her perch atop a pile of Mad Magazines ™️. Seeing vultures, geese, loons, pheasants, and even herself, a blackbird, coming together brought a tear to her one good eye. The other she lost when a firecracker was intentionally let off near her and she had no means of escape. Ever since she learned how to pick locks, sneak food, and survive in the outdoors at night when her absence would not be noticed.
“Everyone, please. Silence. We must have order if we are to work together. Harold, if you heard that thing again would you recognize it?” He nodded, unable to speak from the wincing pain he was in as the geese proceeded to dress his wounded wing. “Anyone have any news since the last time we met?”
A large grey and white pheasant who never spoke but always attended the meetings with her husband and three children fluttered forward and landed gracefully on a wooden chair in the center of the room.
“My husband,” she started, her voice cracked, “he was shot down. I had to keep our children safe. I couldn’t go to him. Even now, his body is out there, untouched. I do not seek your sympathy. I only ask two things.”
“Of course,” said Lady Blackbird.
“The first is, I need help putting my husband to rest. I will not leave him as food for some other hungry beast.”
Lady Blackbird marveled at the strength this mother had to not shed one tear as she spoke so lovingly about her husband. Secretly she wished to know what that kind of love must be like.
“And the second?”
“Kill them. Kill them all.” She turned and flew up to the open window, her three children flew beside her. Together they all flew out the window into the night sky.
“You two,” said Lady Blackbird, addressing Harold’s two cousins. “Go after her and help her find her husband. And try not to eat him.” The two vultures looked insulted that she would even think that but they did as ordered and quickly flew out into the night as well.
“So, what are we going to do?” Lady Blackbird looked around the room for the source of the question but couldn’t find it.
“I think first, we must find this thing that attacked our brethren and destroy it. At least this way when we attack the beasts they will not be able to fight back. Who here is willing to do some infiltration?”
“P-p-pardon me, ma’am. But when you say infiltration, do you mean entering their domicile? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Colonel Jefferson, a loon, fancied himself a country bird. He claimed to be an ancestor from a long line of loons who once lived in a pond owned by President Thomas Jefferson.
“Why, Colonel Jefferson, are you telling me a brave man such as yourself, whose family was present during the war, is afraid of entering a house just to have a look around?” Lady Blackbird loved to make fun of his phony southern accent because she knew how much it ruffled his feathers. But a real southern gentleman would never berate or mistreat a lady no matter how ill-mannered she might be.
“I volunteer to take the lead if anyone would like to join me?”
“Oh, I think it’s better if it’s just you and I, Colonel. Too many birds flying around could bring unwanted attention. Don’t you agree?” If Lady Blackbird could smirk, that is the expression she would be giving. Instead, her large black eyes shone in the moonlight, giving Colonel Jefferson a bad taste in his mouth. Then again, he did eat an oddly colored worm that morning and figured that was the cause of his ailment.
“Shall we proceed, then? The sun will be up soon and so will the beasts,” said the Colonel, holding one wing in the direction of the window for Lady Blackbird to lead the way.
“The rest of you stay here. If we’re not back before first light, it means we were caught and you should save yourselves. Understood?” Everyone nodded in agreement. Many looked terrified and Lady Blackbird knew they wouldn’t be waiting for first light before leaving. The cowards.
A blackbird and loon flew towards a two-story house. All of the windows were closed except for one on the first floor. It was opened a crack. Just enough for Lady Blackbird to squeeze through every night. It took her months but she figured out how to work the latch and the cranking mechanism that she needed to spin a full 180 degrees in order to get the window to open.
She landed on the window sill and hopped in through the window. Colonel Jefferson had a harder time as his body was a bit wider than the gap in the window but he managed to squeeze himself through and nearly fell into a sink as he did. The kitchen was filled with shiny objects everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling, stuck to the walls, sitting on the counter and island. The colonel gulped as he knew his flying wasn’t the most steady and he prayed he wouldn’t knock into anything that would wake up the beasts in the house.
“What we are looking for is upstairs,” said Lady Blackbird. She quickly flew off and the colonel followed as close behind her as he could. He wanted to ask her how she knew what they were looking for as she seemed unsure back at the treehouse but there wasn’t time for questions. She flew up the stairs to the second floor and in through an open door that was down a hallway.
When the colonel flew inside he found Lady Blackbird flying small circles over a desk in front of a window. On the desk was a machine, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He flew towards it and landed beside it. Lady Blackbird did the same.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I just know that it can fly. The beast controls it with that,” Lady Blackbird pointed her wing in the direction of a large silver birdcage, its door wide open. Dangling from the swing in the center of the cage was a large black rectangle with buttons and knobs on it.
Without giving it much thought, Colonel Jefferson flew towards it, fascinated by its size and the colors of the buttons. When he landed on the swing to get a closer look, he heard a click sound and the door on the cage swung closed locking him inside.
“Gotcha!”
Colonel Jefferson looked for the sound of the voice. A boy stood beside the cage, dressed in all black clothes. Blending into the darkness. As he stepped closer to the cage and smiled at the loon he had just caught he grinned menacingly. The moonlight illuminating his mouthful of braces.
“Good birdie. Good birdie,” the beast boy said, petting Lady Blackbird’s head. She winced slightly but only the colonel could see the fright in her eyes. “First that pheasant and now this.” The boy yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll have to look up what kind of bird this is in the morning. I’m still sleepy.” He crawled back into his bed and within minutes was snoring.
“I just have one question. Why?”
Lady Blackbird turned away from the colonel. Her lame eye was highlighted by the moon. “Better you than me.”
She flew out the bedroom and down to the first floor and out the kitchen window before he could say anything else to make her feel guilty. She took a nose dive into the ground just outside the house, covering herself in dirt to make sure she looked like she had just been through hell.
This was a routine she had done a few times before. Scare them into thinking the beasts were more powerful and perhaps now was not the best time to kill them. They’ll agree. Mourn the loss of one of their brethren and regroup next week to devise a plan.
A plan that would never work.
FULL DISCLOSURE: 1. I’m not perfect. 2. I’m not rich. Keeping those two things in mind, you may have come across typos in grammar and punctuation. My feelings won’t be hurt if you point them out in the comments.