Flash Fiction: There’s a Bird in the Garden
There’s a bird in the garden.
It’s small and brown, a completely ordinary bird, but to you, it’s beautiful. Even the fleshy bits, mixing pink and brown together like the coffee your mum drinks. You wonder what happened to the bird. It looks too young to be dead.
There’s your dad in the garden.
He says to leave it, but he’s gone back inside before he sees you pick it up again.
Should you give the bird a name? It would have to be special. You can’t give a dead bird a silly name. You think for forever, but never think of one.
You can hear your mum and dad yelling in the kitchen. Your mum is yelling louder. You wonder if the bird had a family. Did they bury it?
There’s a bird in the garden.
You study its wings and feathers. You got a book from the library. A lot of it you already know. The bird eats the worm, then the cat eats the bird. Then which one are you? You don’t eat cats.
Your dad sits in the kitchen alone, watching you through the window. You don’t like it. You try to ignore him, focusing on the bird.
There’s a woman in your kitchen, and there’s a bird in the garden.
You touch its beak gently. You make it speak. When it was alive, it must have sung songs. Even in death, its song makes the flowers bloom around its grave.
There’s the woman in the garden.
You try to show her the bird. She scolds you. She doesn’t understand the game. She’s not even trying to play, you have your hands in the dirt and she keeps asking you questions. You don’t know how your mum and dad are doing. Your dad doesn’t talk to you, and you haven’t seen your mum for a long time. The dirt feels warm, not too wet or too dry. It’s comfy. You feel bad that you took the bird away from it.
There’s a body in the garden.
There are men all around it. They stand like a navy fence. They won’t let you play. Your dad says to leave them alone. The men say for your dad to leave you alone. You can’t be in the garden anymore. It’s not fair. You cry. One man comforts you, but he doesn’t mention the bird. You wonder what he’s upset about then.
There’s your mum in the garden. You hope she can look after the bird.
END
This piece was “Highly Commended” in the Hive 2019 Young Writers’ Competition.