Billie Bust Up - Birds with Wings

Birds With Wings

Raindrops fall down from the sky, lightning strikes once or twice. Sulking in his chair, the ghost owl sighs. It was a long, depressing sigh that escaped from his mouth. Not even the leftover apple pie he baked didn't cheer him up. His golden eyes stare at the glass of shirley temple with a cherry fragrance tickling his nose. His neck slightly expanded as he shifts his gaze to an old photograph. It looked like a painting that someone painted a long time ago. But, in that giant picture frame is a photo of when he was alive, with little owlets standing between him. Barnaby knew he lost his sanity ten decades ago, and he accepted that. But, he can never forget about his family. His memories may be blurry in his head, but he still felt that warm shred of love that embraced him, even after death. Thinking about it made him sad. If not sad, probably depressed. Sometimes his mind would click and he asked himself this one question;

When was the last time he has ever seen or talked to a live owl, or any bird at all?

Barnaby sat up from his seat, leaving his drink to melt the ice cubes inside. His talons tap rapidly, nearly scratching the surface of the concrete floor. He walks into a very familiar room. Normally, this room would give him a sinister smile. That sense of satisfaction when he glances of those dusty old bottles. But not this time. He just depressingly stares at each one. Every one of those screaming, ghastly wisps have a different color and a similar shape. But, Barnaby can tell which soul is which by the labels he placed on the side of them. He picks up one of the bottles from the shelf with his claw, blankly staring at the tiny, moving spirit. He hops out of the room with his other leg, his eyes still locked on the object. Not even the tiniest screams of pain and agony could make him any happier. He can only imagine what life was like for his trapped victims. It must be lively, much more fun being outside. Basking in the sunlight while relaxing on the grass. Hanging out with friends and going out to places. The very thought of those wonderful times made him bitter inside. Suddenly, he heard a slight crack, interrupting his train of thought. He looks under his palm from holding the bottle, only to find a giant crack forming on the side. Eyes widened at the sight, he places the bottle on the table next to him. He claps his wings together, closing his eyes and breathing deeply in and out.

"It's boring here!" He screamed.

His screech echos through the mansion, creating a small quake that shook the entire place. Luckily, none of the soul bottles were dropped and nothing was broken... well, except the bottle that he picked up early. It shattered into a million pieces, releasing the spirit from its porcelain shackles. Barnaby chases after it in a panic, like trying to kill a fly. But, before he could catch up to it, the wisp fazed through the window. Barnaby grips his claws onto the floor, halting to a stop as he helplessly watches one of his victims leaving. He opens the window hinges, bringing in a breeze of fresh air. He would've continued his cat and mouse chase with the wisp. But, he has been so down in the dumps that he doesn't feel like flying after it. Shutting the window doors, he turns his body around and walks away, feeling his eye sockets drooping.

"This is so embarrassing." said Barnaby, who is stretching his neck. "I'm not so... chipper today."

Barnaby starts to cackle at his own joke until his laughter dies down. His neck keeps on stretching and stretching until his head hits the floor.

"I know my time has been up for a long time, but..."

He points a claw on his trachea area, slashing the head off his shoulders. Being a ghost, however, it doesn't kill him. He picks up his head with his foot. From Barnaby's perspective, it was like standing on an elevator and it's moving slowly. All he can stare at is his decapitated body.

"Maybe I shouldn't have taken those magic experiments." He thought to himself. "I wouldn't have ended up like this if I did. But..."

Barnaby throws his head up in the air, and before it could fall back down, his head spun like a tabletop, held by a single toenail.