Out of work, out of fire and fuel. No more steam for the train or gas for the engine... Done and dusted, broken in yer bones. That was James 'Rooker' Chamber's feelings all those nights- shrivelled in his bed. Dirty beige sheets draped his sagging shoulders.
Outside was not a place that Rooker wandered; the loud bangs made him weary. Even stereotypically peaceful things, like the red poppies of meadows, conjured some noise of sorts. His own garden was overgrown, equipped with an algae-water pond and moss around each stone and pebble. The path leading to his now only door was eroding, along with the windows that were cornered by plants. A droning of wings flew overhead, low and steady- head bound for the South-east, soon they'd be fighting for so many lives...
One life was alone and out of action, like an outdone super hero.
Rooker got up, took a shower and sat. Sat down to eat a chipped bowl of Cheerios. He'd always disliked those; too salty or sweet. Never just right. And, they were soggy and sad. Always so soggy and sad! His coffee burnt through the pages of the newspaper, not that it bothered him. He gave a huff and a groan, before leaving the table. Stacking his dishes higher than yesterday- Rooker pondered about more things. Such a dangerous activity for a diminishing mind. Wouldn't you agree?
'Birds.' Single taps followed the flutters of wings. A broken voice croaked in sync to each knock. They were quiet, despite swollen knuckles that marked the beginning of an old man's hands. James 'Rooker' Chamber still sat here, despite a cramp in his knee and a nagging in his feet. 'Birds, birds, birds.'
However, he stopped. James 'Rooker' Chamber stopped tapping and sat still. He peered over the vast streets of his city. Leaning in, Rooker got a closer look of what he had missed out on: Trees of autumnal colours lined cobble pathways and drives. On those drives slept models of Jeeps or Volkswagens, branded with stickers correlating to dogs or cats, some even advertisements. Past each car, walked a human. Tall or short, thin or fat. His fingers stroked through the air, just as the wind whipped up and away. Birds flew with it, readying for migration to a better land that provided a better life for them.
From that point forward, James 'Rooker' Chamber was never wistful again...
YOU ARE READING
Birdman
Mystery / ThrillerThis is a fragile story, handle with care. A man, so frail, that he can drift with the wind that carries a birds' wing. A budding male, so young and impressionable that he doesn't know what to do with his life anymore. One mind is corrupting, wher...
