The Ownership or the Old Friend?

Really, have you ever gone to a big beautiful mansion as a guest and when you arrived and brought inside another guest greeted you and the implication was it was THEIR HOME? What if you DIDN’T ask and ASSUMED it was this person’s home and they also were waiting to meet someone there?

Then… you both decide to walk and talk around… and you the guest have to leave before the owner or renter comes back? If you are criminal minded… do you leave and order “hits” to rob the place believing the guest is the owner and “easy one to kidnap” or mess with? What if you saw that big mansion guest again later at a very inexpensive store like KMART? Would you think they are an imposter? A fraud? Would you treat them like the mansion owner? Or stop and ask them again who they are? What if you again were criminal minded or crazy or just not thinking… and later started RUMORS, slander… that the person you met at the mansion was a fraud, not wealthy… and yet… you never knew their actual net worth? And what if they were the actual mansion owner and you blew them off because they were at a KMART or CVS? What if you started talking again and then find out this person is NOT THE SAME ONE as the one at the mansion you had a conversation with yet they knew WHO YOU ARE–and they are an imposter who may or may not know the guest or the mansion owner but have info on them?

The Girl and the Flock of Birds

Short story, not very original. Just a reminder.

A girl sat on a bench by herself and now and then a bird appeared, pecked around and flew off again. Minding her own business, the girl opens a package of crackers and birds start showing up at her feet, on the bench, and occasionally they jump onto her shoulder and off again… legs too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll share some of my food…” and she takes some crackers in her small hand to drop on the ground and before she can a bigger bird lands on her wrist lowering her arm and almost throwing her off balance.

She leans further over to drop the crackers politely and more birds fly in as well as more than one homeless person.

There is a COMMOTION!!! Birds are flapping wings, the girl is SCREAMING as they get caught in her hair. Her arms are swinging all around her and one homeless person grabs them saying, “Girl, don’t hurt the birds.” And some birds draw blood on her arms and face.

The other homeless person leans over to push birds aside to grab scattered crackers… clutching them tight and then giving them out as if they were theirs… now smaller pieces, even partially damp and dirty from being taken off the ground.

What should happen next is a police officer or other reliable adult runs up and chases the commotion off the child and helps them get to safety. The reality is, more adults may show up and knock out the child and kidnap them, ask for ransom from whoever they can get money from. Not even seeking out friends and family. Could be months before that child gets home. In the Twilight Zone… they may never get home or have crackers on a bench again.

This does qualify as a short horror story near to the upcoming Halloween nights. It is to remind parents and youths to keep an eye out for each other and not allow violence to be commonplace. *Thinking about it some more: IF Gandalf the White(a wizard from Tolkien’s writings) showed up, he would have likely sent away every thing living but the girl and one deserving bird, then stepped back and be gone to allow the girl and bird peace between them.

The Person on the Phone Line

(very short fiction story)

A lonely person picks up a rotary dial phone and calls a random number. A voice on the other end talks to them for an hour. They never tell each other their real names and just…talk.

Back then the system wasn’t too good. There were pops and crackles, fuzzy sounding voices between clear times. Still they talked about things. Why the world doesn’t look right, why their lives are not what they expected. Dreams, hopes, loves and hates.

They laughed, and almost cried too. Out of fear of “ruining it” they choose to never speak again. Thank each other and hang up.

Those were better days. People talked to each other. Shared ideas without fear, without passing judgement. People knew how to be polite, considerate, authentic… even tolerant.

This takes places in the 1970s, USA. Back then, we had rotary telephones in homes and workplaces. They were called a “tele – phone” because unlike a telegraph… it was SOUND.

The Old Man and the Birds

(working title)
I’m writing this story live. If I don’t snoopers may try to sell it before I publish it. Stand by… (copied from Linkedin after I finished as is for now)

After working hard for years, an old man is retired and alone. He knows he is near his end, or he thinks so. Gives away his expensive things to friends and family and has his little money to live on and enjoy his final days in peace.

He has just enough to get by, but things are getting more expensive. He doesn’t want to burden people he cared about in life. Just wants to fade away.

After losing his small apartment home and walking out, leaving everything there he takes to the streets. He has a terminal illness and knows his life is closing down.

One day he notices the young birds visiting him. Older ones watching them and him. Laying on his cardboard he gets up and goes to a store and with his last cash buys bird seed. He sits at the park and gives and gives… it last for days and he makes lots of friends with the birds and he lives in that nice park for a while with them.

The day comes and he is out. He sits and watches some birds come to visit, give him looks, peck around and leave again. Some come and fight each other at his feet and next to him on the bench.

Sadly he gets up, and slowly walks away. Birds chase after him.. scurrying at his feet… landing on his shoulders… on his head… flying by… some talking… some yelling… he just keeps walking slowly… no where to really go. His breathing isn’t well…

…his head is getting foggy.. he is not sure if he is walking or not. He feels very tired… and slowly loses consciousness. The birds land on his body, now just fallen on the path. He hears them, it sounds like music and confusion… they peck at his hair, his face, his jacket, his shoes, and stand and fight on him. Doesn’t matter their color, or size, or origin. Just birds.

Are you a bird? Do beautiful feathers stop you from pecking at people? Are you all in gray? Do you feel, special?

Joggers… come up quick and birds fly off… some fly and fly and fly… others hop out of the way still watching and looking for bird seed, which.. some may have dropped.

What does this story mean to you? What human would you be in this story if you wrote yourself in? Are you proud of the birds? Would you want to be one?

What are the joggers thinking of as they see this dead old man on a path? Take his wallet? Chase the birds away? Run off and pretend they didn’t see him?

There are many meanings in this story. Some people feel old and out of bird seed, even not near their own natural death. They feel like they already gave up a lot already.

If the old man got up, and walked back to an expensive apartment with all kinds of marble and gold. Had he still spent “all his seeds” for “the birds”? What if he had only bought ONE BAG in life and spent it all. Are the birds still “owed”? Is he responsible if the birds called more to his neighborhood?

more later