wrong

i did something wrong, i know i did. thats why they left. i did something wrong.

what did i do? i did everything they told me to, i followed those people until i couldnt i tried i tried my hardest.

'sometimes your best just isnt good enough.' my mom used to say that. i would bring home a b or a c grade and she would lock me in my room until i studied. she would say 'you can do better. youre just lazy. lazy lazy lazy. lets see how lazy you can be without dinner.'

i killed her. is that why they are mad at me? she had a heart attack and i waited until she stopped breathing before calling 911. i watched her as she watched me just sitting there.

two weeks later, a nest approached me. they had seen what i had done. i didnt want to go to foster care and they said they could take me away. they could take me to a place where i would be free. where i could see what they saw, feel what they felt. the bright ones.

they were so bright when i went there. it hurt, but i focused on the light, on the lightning. and afterwards, i felt wonderful. i felt like i would never be alone again.

but now they are gone and i am empty. hollow.

they must be mad at me.

i must have done something wrong.

what did i do?

Bird Song

I think I get it now.


Well I didn't tell anyone, but a bird flew by.
Saw what I'd done. He set up a nest outside,
and he sang about what I'd become.
He sang so loud, sang so clear.
I was afraid all the neighbours would hear,
So I invited him in, just to reason with him.
I promised I wouldn't do it again.


But he sang louder and louder inside the house,
And now I couldn't get him out.
So I trapped him under a cardboard box,
stood on it to make him stop.
I picked up the bird and above the din I said,
"That's the last song you'll ever sing".
Held him down, broke his neck,
Taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget.


But in my dreams began to creep
that old familiar tweet tweet tweet.


I opened my mouth to scream and shout,
I waved my arms and flapped about.
But I couldn't scream and I couldn't shout,
couldn't scream and I couldn't shout.


I opened my mouth to scream and shout
waved my arms and flapped about
But I couldn't scream I couldn't shout,
The song was coming from my mouth.


From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth.


From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth.


From my mouth.
From my mouth.
From my mouth.
From my mouth.


From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth,
From my mouth.


Please come back, little birdies. Please come back.

Gone

They're gone. The Bright Ones.

I had been feeling sick all day. I could feel the birds in my body moving around. They made ripples in my stomach. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I took a butcher knife and I cut open my stomach wide and they all flew out. All of them. The sky was soon covered in black feathers.

I sank to my knees and felt the inside of my stomach. I could feel the calm winds of the Bleak Shore through the hole at the bottom. And then it closed. I pulled my bloody hand out of my stomach and wrapped my jacket around it to stop the bleeding.

I feel empty.

Carrier

I've been wandering the streets for the past few days. Just walking down alleyways, avoiding people. I don't have to eat much, not with the Bright Ones inside me. They ached to be let loose, but I decided it was too dangerous. I couldn't risk my unknown enemy seeing them and finding me. Not after what they did to Tern and Kestrel.

And then, today, I found a Carrier. You might better know them as a Grayskin, their skin covered in the fungal form of the Choir, driven mad by the constant battery of noises and voices.

The Choir hears things, though. It knows things. It could know who was after me.

The Carrier was huddled behind a dumpster, her body covered in layers of clothing, her face wrapped in bandages except for her eyes. I could see the skin around her eyes were covered in grey fungus.

Even though I had found a Carrier, it would tell me anything unless I forced it. Finally, carefully, I opened my mouth wide and let out two of the Bright Ones. They launched themselves into the air and grabbed the shoulders of the Carrier.

"What What What What What," she said, the Choir making her voice unnaturally echo. "What Do You Want? Want? Do You Want? What Do? You Want?"

The Bright Ones on her shoulder rubbed their beaks against her head, electricity sparking between them. "Something is killing Nests," I said. "Something killed all the Nests in my group. What did this? Who killed them? Who wars with the Convocation?"

"War War War War?" The Carrier laughed, the laughter echoing strangely off the sides of the alleyway. "There is no war. The birds merely eliminate a failed experiment. Experiment. Failed. Eliminate. They seek to eradicate those who knew. Knew. Eradicate. Who knew."

It couldn't be true. But why would the Choir lie?

I didn't know anything about any experiment. But perhaps Nightjar did. And because of what he did to himself, now we became targets.

I walked away from the Carrier as her laughter echoed in my ears.

Dead

They're dead.

I went out for some air. Tern was still arguing about Nightjar, but we all knew something was wrong. None of us could get to the Bleak Shore. We were cut off. We didn't have any instructions from the Bright Ones - even the ones inside our bodies were silent.

So I went outside to get some fresh air. I walked around a bit, stuck in my own thoughts, still remembering what Nightjar said about the pain. I, too, felt some pain whenever I opened myself, but it seemed that his pain had been worse, much worse.

Then I came back to our safe house and I opened the door and I found them. Tern and Kestrel.

Their hands were tied behind their backs and they had plastic bags shoved over their faces. We still need to breath. They suffocated.

I heard the door behind me creak and I ran out of the house, I ran even as I heard the crack of bullets, even as I heard people running after me. I ran and didn't look back.