10th Grade Writings: The Peculiar Bird

The Peculiar Bird.

As I was sitting at a desolated bus station with ripped opaque tights and a dirty sleeve, a peculiar bird on the overhead wires caught my attention. It had an oddly disproportional body, and its color was a strange mixture of jet black and celadon green, which made it stand out from all the other birds I had ever seen. I kept alternating between agitatedly glancing at the cellphone on my lap and watching the peculiar bird’s lonely, but proud immobility; I wasn’t unable to focus on either. It was 6:03 am, and the next bus didn’t arrive until 6:20. In 17 minutes I was to buy a one-way ticket out of this damned city, and never look back. In 17 minutes I’d no longer be the victim or the perpetrator as I was often led to believe, but just my own person. In 17 minutes...

A sharp cry from above my head abruptly interrupted my internal anticipation and the absolute and utter silence, only compatible with early Sunday mornings. The bird was still there: motionless and still. I kept staring at it, and I began to notice little details that I haven’t noticed before: the prominent spot with no feathers on its right wing, the black shiny eyes, the exotic beak. If it looked back with would notice my puffy eyes from crying two nights in a row, and my dirty sleeve covered in mascara. But it kept looking straight ahead, as morning wind made the wires swing softly.

My phone kept ringing; it was Andrew. The last thing I wanted to do was answer, but I knew I had no choice but to pick up the phone, as he wouldn’t stop calling. “Baby”, I heard on the other side of the line, “where are you?!” His voice was apathetic and drowsy, just like nothing happened last night, or the night before, or the one before that one... “I am leaving. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t deserve this,” I whispered with anguish, as all the memories of the past months swarmed over my mind. “Baby, don’t be stupid. Come home. You just wouldn’t listen to me last night. I didn’t mean to...please. I am so sorry for everything. Please. Baby, I love you. Just come home.

Baby...” His words flowed almost like a lullaby soothing me to tranquil sleep. This was the closest I had gotten to escaping, but his familiar, gentle voice captivated me once again. I put the phone down, but the repetition of deceitful apologies could still be heard. “But baby, where would you go...?” Where would I go? I knew no one outside of this damned city that held me hostage for what felt like eternity. As tears escaped my eyes, I looked around, as if looking for a kind by-passer to sort out all my problems. Instead, my glance stopped on the rocking wires above my head. The bird was gone. My companion on this cold Sunday morning spread his wings and flown over the horizon in search of something greater than wires in this insipid city, as alone as a pariah and as fearless as a soldier. Wiping tears off my face I angrily thought, “If the bird can, why can’t I?” All my indecisiveness was gone; I knew there was no way back now. The phone kept buzzing with persuasive words. “I have never felt like this about anyone. Please, you can’t leave me.” He paused. “Goodbye, Andrew”, I hung up with a sigh of relief, and I tossed my phone in the puddle.

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