Bird on the Sill

A/N - Taa daa! Here is a cute little short story I dreamed up one day, perfect for a spring special...

I was born in a tree just outside a pretty red building. When I was a chick, I would look over the edge of my nest and stare at the gleaming tiles of the building. It was a mesmerizing sight. The other siblings in the nest, they all flew away.

My mother encouraged me to go too, but I found that I liked that tree and that building too much to leave. I did not mind that I had to share the seed that was put out every day. I did not mind the cries that came from that bright building.

In fact, I flitted about the window to see what all the ruckus was about. There was a small child there, being fed and fussed over by many people. They did not notice me slip in to steal crumbs when they turned away.

I came to think of that window as mine. I sat on it and watched the people inside as they bustled about. I became familiar with the faces and way of talking of each. The small child grew day by day. It even came and left me rice balls on the window sill and pieces of cake under my tree.

I liked the little one. He made the winters seem not so lonely and the summers interesting. He was not as loud and fussing as the other people inside. He sat quietly at the desk to look at leaves and moved things around, like little pebbles.

I built my nest in that tree, but I did not flurry about in the spring to find a mate. I was small and better suited to foraging for food, rather than fighting for a female to make eggs. What did it matter? I had my tree. I had my entertainment. I was content.

One day, as I was sitting on my window sill, I heard a commotion inside unlike that before. It startled me and I flew in a panic to the side. I hit a hard person that stood there, startling it out of a daze. I sat up on the roof and scolded him for the people making such a racket.

It went inside the building and pulled out a person by the hair who was screaming and crying like they were mad. I saw the small child emerge, its cheek red and its face frowning. I watched as the mad person tried to lunge at it. The hard person took them away and the child was alone.

Now the child spent a lot of time at the table with its sticks and stones. It looked at leaves during the day and into the night. It played with sticks in the yard with the hard person. It was all very entertaining to watch. The other birds mocked me for sitting on my window sill all the time.

"Why do you watch that human? It is useless to bother with them. They will only see us as a nuisance. They swat our nests and berate us for our songs. One day, you will get eaten by a fox if you stay on the sill." I ignored their warnings.

The child became larger and sometimes would sit and talk to me at my window sill. I listened and ate the rice that he brought with gratitude. The child would chase away all the cats and foxes for me. I trusted in this. So, I let him sit quite close, though not to touch me.

In the night, I heard the rustle of people over the wall. They disturbed my sleep and I flew to my window sill in alarm. They dressed in black and snuck like a cat across the yard. I pecked at the paper of the window and slipped inside the room.

I flapped and fluttered about, and the child accidentally hit me when it lashed out in alarm. I fell to the ground, dazed. The child got out of bed and went to look under the table where I had fallen. I peered up at it and then looked to the window where the person in black was coming in.

The child took up a stick and struck the person down. There were shouts and many people running about. I smelled death and cowered beneath the table in fright. I dared not move. Not until all the people had cleared out again, except for the child.