• Creative Writing

    Little Birds

    “Something’s wrong,” he whispered, laying the bird down on the table. It slid out of his palms, its head bending backwards so the nape of its neck nearly touched the mantle beneath. The wings were fashioned like a cocoon, tucking the body away, the white feathers neither ruffled nor out of place as Wynn let it roll onto the counter. Audrey leaned forward over her homework and touched the bird anxiously, her index finger just barely pressing against its mangled right leg.  “Where did you find him?” Audrey asked, looking up at Wynn. He rubbed his nose with his sleeve and shrugged. “I think Kaiser killed him.” Audrey nodded, turning…