there is that relief. (sunday photo fiction).

141 01 January 31st 2016Her feathers stroke her empty, beating chest; they quietly hum her jailed free spirit. Their brown shade fading into light mud color shakes as their laughter crashes into her ears. She tries to drown every mockery, but she fails as the sound grows louder.

He left her and their family. Once she dispensed every egg, he promised to fetch a nest when the midnight rose and he had not returned yet. She lost hope when the countdown turned from minutes to years.

‘Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!’ as if they are not regularly fed. They swim rapidly around her, distracting her serene vision with their palpable, aggressive dances. She reels to the treasure of food and picks up a few with her beak.

The voices in her head pierce her ears, making it bleed.

She hides behind the withered grasses and mixes some of the blade-like grasses into the food of her children. Both in pale yellow colors, she strides to her loud children.

The responsibilities she takes are too much for her taste—it is time to leave. In the first place, she never meant to get deceived by his sugar words. A lesson learned, she whispers.

“Food. Served.”

A relief.

Check out this week’s prompt:
Sunday Photo Fiction


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

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