Another Day. Another Bird.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Carter stared out the window, his chin resting on the sill. He counted the birds sitting atop the wire. Sixty-eight. Another had joined the sixty-seven that had been there yesterday, which had been sixty-six the day before. Each day another joined the others, and although Carter watched them almost endlessly, he never saw one leave.

One bird sat there for each day since what his parents had dubbed “the accident.” They were beginning to weigh the line down–a mirror of the guilt weighing on him. It hadn’t been an accident. He’d meant to smother his sister with that pillow.

Like Carter, I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts lately, but not because I’ve smothered anyone with a pillow. I don’t know why, but I do know that it’ll pass. It always does.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to read stories from the other Fictioneers.

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10 responses to “Another Day. Another Bird.

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