Flash Fiction

I looked up, secateurs immobile in my hand, and tried to see what bird was singing that song.

I couldn’t see it.

That is a bird, isn’t it?

I felt a shiver down my spine as I heard it again.  Why?  It was just an unusual bird.

I cut through the soft branch, feeling a frown tighten my forehead as the cheep, cheep, cheep came again.  Why did I feel so angry that it came again just as I pruned?

Why did I find it so creepy?  I lowered my arm and put the cut shoot in the bin beside me, and by the time I’d released my grip on it, every hair on my arms was erect.

That half second movement was accompanied by the three cheeps.

Fear coursed down my back, leaving me cold and tingling.  I knew I had to look around.  But I was scared.  Starting-to-sweat scared.

What did I think I would see?

I told myself I was being stupid.  I’d see the rest of the garden and the side of the house.  Nothing weird.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Slowly I turned, despite the adrenaline coursing through my body telling me to run inside and lock the door.

There was nothing there that wasn’t normally there.

Only this one unseen bird that was wafting an icy draft through my being.

Why did it affect me that way?

Because it didn’t seem real.  It didn’t seem earthly.  Not natural.

Throwing down the secateurs I ran inside, slammed the door shut behind me, and turned the key to hear a satisfying clunk.  Nothing too small to be seen was coming in through that door.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Now it was in the house.

My heart pounded forcing my blood into my brain.  A wave of dizzy nausea filled me.  Was I spinning or was it the room?

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

The sound!

Stop the sound!

I grasped the back of my chair, struggled into it.  Why was I at an angle?  I adjusted my position.  The angles changed, as my sense of up, down, left, right, forward and back changed.  I felt sick and feeble.  Fading.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Don’t give in to it.  Put YouTube on.  Turn the volume up to eleven and drown out the sound.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Go away!  Please!  Go away.

But it wouldn’t.

I tasted metal in my mouth.  Is it bile or blood?

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Rock Music of the Eighties.  Do your worst and drown out the sound.

But it rose higher than the drums and guitars.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

My world went black.  My eyes were open, but what I saw was a void.  My heartbeat at the speed of the guitar strings.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Was life sustainable with a heart out of control like this?

Listen to the music.

I felt my desk meet my face.  The rest was numb.

“In a tree by the brook, there’s a songbird who sings

“Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.”

Cheep cheep cheep.

“This is heaven.  We are particularly busy right now.  Please take a seat in purgatory.  We will call your number in due course.”

          “… and she’s buying a stairway to Heaven.”