United States

Asexual || Dreamer || Hufflepuff
Hopeless romantic dreaming to find her true love
Songs || Stories || Poems
In love with two people, plus someone who can never be mine.

Message from Writer

Each and every one of you is special.

You’re made of stardust, too.

If you can’t find a bright side, it’s okay to sit in the dark for little bit while your eyes adjust. It’ll be easier to find light after that.

I love you to the moon and back.

A Loud Mind

January 30, 2018

PROMPT: Birdsong

"What goes on in that head of yours?"

A flutter of black. The tiniest cheep-cheep sound, faint. 
The pit-pit-pat of little feet rustling.
F-f-f-fsshh. Wings shake and feathers shake back. 
A trilling sound, unable to be understood.

Another flash. Black obscures your vision for a mere second longer.
Caaaw. Caaaaw. 
What's that sound?
The crow of a nearing bird.

Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!
It's louder. The bird is closer. 
The flap, flapping beat of its wings pounding against your ears. 
Three more birds spiral around you, your vision flashing.

Black. White. Black. White.

The fluttering shape-shifts into roars and the cheeping sounds become screeches.
Feet smack against the ground, clapping down like thunder. 
Psssshh. Pffffff, Fthhhh- cccccckckkkkkkk.
The trilling is a siren.

Nothing is visible. Everything is dark.
Nothing is audible. The tens, hundreds, thousands of birds swarming are too loud. 
Bam. Bam. Bam. Their bodies crash into yours.
Their cries of pain as they fall to the ground are agonizing.

Crreeeeeeaaaarrr!! Chreeeeeeeeeoooo! Caw, caw!

                    Craw!                     Raaah!
                                                                                  Caw!                    Reeeeeeeeaaahaaaahh!
  Screeeee!                     Pffffffff-                                    Rrow! Rrow!                      

Ckkckckcccccccckkththppfff                Shhhhhhhhhhhhuu!                 Caawww!!!         Craaaaaaaaaaa!

White spots back into vision.
Every body that slams into yours falls and creates a see-through hole
In the tornado of black.
The deafening crows grow quieter.

Wings stop fluttering.
Feet stop patting.
No more black, anywhere.

"So, are you going to tell me?"


See History
  • January 30, 2018 - 4:23pm (Now Viewing)

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