Acacias, adorned in gold, bob heavy heads to a koolbardi’s caroling call. A raven, scratching at freshly turned soil, unearths Marco’s watch. The koolbardi swoops, screeching. A clash of beaks. A storm of feathers.
Gingerly, Gina grabs her shovel.
I love your description of the acacias and the storm of feathers!
Thank you, Myna. I love acacias — they’re such impossible and jolly flowers. I quite literally witnessed the storm of feathers while taking my dog for a walk. Given the volume of feathers I’d expected to see bald birds, but the two very unhappy birds shrieking at each other looked fully clothed.
Nice, Asha. Very poetic.
This has such a lyrical quality to it! Always love your flash fiction. And magpies – the season is almost upon us!
Thank you! Omg, the magpies have started their shenanigans on this side of the continent already! I love them so much, but yikes those beaks are sharp.
I loved the links, especially the origin story. As for the story itself, this is so vivid I can see it happening. I’m left wondering if the birds will be buried along with Marco.
Oh yay! I’m glad you followed the links. There’s so much rich cultural heritage that we know so little about, and I adore magpies. They really do strut about like boastful little birds.
I love the emotion in this piece. It’s subtle and still somehow hit me over the head at the same time. I second Margaret’s comment on the origin story – reading that added another layer to this.
Thank you! I’m really pleased you got the violence here. I wondered if I’d been a bit too coy about it, so this is reassuring. I’m especially happy that I get to share some of the rich cultural history of the land I live on.
This is so beautifully sinister. I love the way you give “Silence” it’s own line. It acts like punctuation.