Invisible
The sun awakened, and the moon slowly vanished into the heavenly skies The clouds floated slowly, forming unpredictable shapes The chirping of the birds shattered the silence. Before all of it, I was awake in the same cage I had inhabited for the past two years. This is my home. As the days go by, it somehow feels like it's shrinking.
Mr. Fisher enters the kitchen barefoot in a rush ready to prepare breakfast for himself before he goes to work It was the usual, dry leftover bread and some cold tea to wash it all down. His daughter Mary always complained about wanting chocolate bread instead of plain dry bread like the other fancy kids. The two sat on their wooden chairs discussing things that I couldn't quite understand. I proceeded to eat from my very full food dispenser The small dish of seeds always seemed to stay full, as if forgotten. No one ever rushed to refill it with new seeds.
“Well, we ain’t fancy like those wealthy folks, nor will we ever be,” Mr. Fisher muttered, barely looking up from his bread.
Mary, sitting at the table with a frown on her face, glared at her bread. “I wish we had chocolate bread, like the other kids at school. They always bring such fancy things.” She sighed, casting a longing glance toward the window.
Mr. Fisher didn’t respond right away. His hands shook slightly as he sipped his tea, staring out at the morning light with a tired look in his eyes. “We don’t have what they have, Mary. You know that. Be grateful for what we do have.”
He paused, his voice softening but somehow becoming more serious. “I put every last penny into your schooling, don’t forget that I’ve made sure you can go, so you can have a chance at more than what I’ve got.”
Mary didn’t seem to hear him, swimming in her thoughts. She picked up her bread again, chewing it slowly.
Mr. Fisher shook his head, muttering about how things used to be different, but he didn’t explain further. He sighed deeply and finished his tea, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Now, I’ve got to get to work,” he said, pushing himself up from the table He grabbed his dusty coat from the hook by the door. “You stay focused at school, Mary. It’s your ticket out of here, you hear me?”
Mary didn’t answer. She slowly nodded as she stared at the bread crumbs on the table.
Mr. Fisher hesitated, but then he opened the door and stepped out. The slam of the door sounded final, the sort of sound that made it clear he wasn’t coming back until late evening
It was me again, in my cage, in this shrinking world.
It wasn’t always like this
I remember. When Mary was younger, she would sit beside me for hours on end
“You won’t tell on me, right?” she would say, resting her chin on the table beside my cage. She would whisper all kinds of secrets. “You are my only friend”, she would say. The kids at school were unkind to her, she would tell me all about it.
“Dad doesn’t get it and Mom—” She would always stop the sentence right there, looking away, blinking fast like she was trying not to cry.
I never knew what happened to her mother, but I knew the sadness and misery it left behind So, I did what I could I’d fluff my feathers, tilt my head, coo softly, anything to make her smile. And sometimes, she did.
Back then, Mr. Fisher was a different man too. He still carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, however he wasn’t broken yet. He’d ruffle Mary’s hair as he passed by and say, “Still talking to that pigeon, huh?” with a chuckle
“He understands me, father!” Mary would reply, crossing her arms like she was daring him to argue
“More than I do?” Mr. Fisher teased, but his smile was true back then.
They would always sit at the table and talk for hours about all kinds of things—
Why is the sky so blue, and the ocean too?
Why do people go to school, and why are some so mean?
Do birds have dreams? Do they think like we do?
If I close my eyes and wish hard, could it all just magically come true?
I loved listening to it all
But then… things took a turn.
The house got quieter and emptier The smiles faded Mr Fisher stopped sitting at the table. He stopped listening. Bills piled up into a stack, his clothes started looking older, and there was always that empty distant look in his eyes, it was like he was somewhere else even when he was right there.
Mary still whispered her secrets, but not to me Not anymore
So I stayed here. Watching. Waiting.
But it won’t be like this forever, I know it. One day, she’ll sit beside me again, just like she did before One day, the door will open, and Mr Fisher will have that bright smile on his face as he carries the warm bread into the kitchen. He’ll surprise Mary with her favorite candy and chocolates. I just have to wait I simply have to be patient
Because things can always go back to the way they were… can’t they?
The Visitor
The house was as silent as an image. Mr. Fisher had left for work, Mary had gone to school I pecked at the same seeds that had sat in my dish for days, barely tasting them.
Then, I heard it A sound at the window
I fluffed up instinctively, my feathers bristling. A shadow moved against the glass A black bird landed on the sill
His feathers were as dark as ink. As dark as the night. Matter of fact, he was darker than his own shadow. Its sharp dark eyes scanned the room before settling on me. He tilted his head, considering me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
I shrank back into my cage defensively “Who are you, and what do you want?”
The blackbird chuckled low “Just a traveler.”
His voice was smooth, old in a way that suggested he had seen far more of the world than I had.
“I’ve been observing you for some time.”
My feathers ruffled “Why is that?”
“Because I see things,” he said simply. “And I see you.”
I didn’t like the way he said it. Like I was something pitiful. Like I was something stuck.
I hopped to the other side, lifting my beak “I don’t need watching.”
The blackbird gave a slow, deliberate nod
“Maybe not. But tell me, little pigeon… When was the last time someone sat beside you?”
I froze. The air felt somehow thicker now. It was stuck in my throat.
“They still care,” I said, forcing my voice to stay at an even tone. “Mary. Mr. Fisher. They’re just… busy.”
The blackbird let out a short, dry laugh.
“Busy,” he mocked “That’s what you tell yourself, don’t you? But tell me, featherless fool, when was the last time one of them even looked at you?”
My feathers ruffled
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t mean what exactly?”
The blackbird leaned in slightly closer, his sharp eyes filled with what resembled judgment.
“That you’ve been forgotten? That you’re nothing more than a bird in a cage?”
He continued,
“When times get tough, things go downhill. I can clearly tell your folks are going through it,” he said while staring at the water drops falling from the ceiling
“When they’ll have nothing to eat anymore, they’ll turn to you. A potential meal sitting in a rusty cage.”
I recoiled. My heart pounded.
“Face it,” the blackbird continued, voice smooth but cutting.
“You’re not waiting for them You’re waiting for a past that won’t return You sit in that cage, clinging to a dream that died long, long ago.”
He hopped even closer.
“We’re birds. Our species is not meant to live inside of a cage. Why stay here when you can be like us? We roam the skies you contemplate inside this lonely cage Don’t you wish to be like us? Travel the world, meet others, and collect unforgettable memories?”
At that moment, I felt something within me snap
“Shut up!” I squawked, flapping my wings so hard the cage rattled. “You don’t know anything! I’m not forgotten! Things will go back to how they were!”
The blackbird simply watched, unfazed.
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night ”
“Get out!” I shrieked, puffing myself up as much as I could.
“Get a life of your own, rather than bothering those who have one! I don’t want to see you again! Ever!”
The blackbird lingered for a moment as if considering whether to say more. Then, with a slow nod, he spread his wings.
“As you wish.”
And just like that, he was gone a shadow that faded into the sky
The house fell silent again. But for the first time, the silence felt different. Heavier this time
I turned to my food dish. The same old seeds sat there.
I had won
Hadn’t I?
Deaf Ears
Two days had gone by. I know this because I watched the sunset twice after they left.
The house sat still, untouched by time. The morning light shone through the window, but there were no footsteps in the kitchen. No voices. No sounds of a wooden chair scraping against the floor Nothing
But they would come back. Any moment now.
Any moment
I kept my eyes on the door, waiting patiently. Then, the sound of wings
A dark shadow appeared as something landed on the windowsill. I stiffened before I even turned Him.
I fluffed my feathers, my chest growing with anger “What are you doing here?” I snapped. “Haven’t I told you that I never wanted to see you again?”
The blackbird said nothing at first. He studied me with those deep, knowing eyes And then, in a voice softer than before, he spoke
“They’re not coming back.”
My body went cold
I forced out a laugh, but it sounded wrong. “What a ridiculous thing to say. Mr Fisher is surely at work Mary is at school They’ll be back soon ”
The black bird didn’t blink. “No. They won’t.”
I hopped to the other side of my perch, shaking my head “I don't know what you're talking about.”
He tilted his head as if considering whether to say it or not. And eventually, he did.
“They were hit by a bigger vehicle.”
Something sharp pierced through my soul.
“No,” I said. “No.”
“Both of them,” the blackbird continued, his voice heavier than before. “Neither survived.”
The cage around me felt smaller, suffocating. I let out a short, panicked laugh.
“You’re lying.”
“If only I was.”
“You filthy liar!” My wings flared as I lunged forward, feathers bristling. “You don’t know anything! They’ll come back! They always come back!”
The blackbird simply stared at me with something I couldn’t understand. Pity? Sadness?
He stared at me as if I was no longer sane.
My chest tightened. I turned away.
“They wouldn’t leave me,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “They wouldn’t ”
“They love me!”
I squeezed my eyes shut
I turned sharply, my voice trembling with fury and sorrow. “I told you to leave! Get lost in the skies, guided by the wind, far, far from here! I never want to see you again!”
The blackbird let out a slow, almost amused sigh. He spread his wings slightly, stretching them as if preparing to leave.
“You don’t have to worry about seeing me again,” he said smoothly. “I’m leaving anyway. Somewhere far.”
I should’ve felt relieved. I should’ve celebrated. But instead, something in my chest squeezed, painful and tight
He turned his head slightly, glaring at me one last time.
“I just wanted to deliver the word,” he continued. “And word never lies.”
He paused, his voice almost mocking.
“Newspapers don’t lie,” he said. “I would’ve told you to come check it out yourself, but I know you are too pathetic to even leave this cage.”
Then he recited it, slowly, clearly, as if reading from a headline: “A man and his daughter found dead after horrendous vehicle accident”
“This house is dead And so are you You just don’t know it yet ”
Those words felt like a slap to the face.
I stiffened. My feathers bristled, but no sound left my beak. Not a single word
The blackbird tilted his head. “This is my last visit, little pigeon. Come with me, and I can show you what life truly is about.”
His dark eyes glimmered.
“Or stay here and wonder until you rot like that cage of yours ”
A beat of silence.
His gaze turned towards my rusted cage, then back at me
Then, without another word, he took off.
His dark wings stretched, and with a powerful beat, he was gone, vanishing into the endless skies.
Once he left, it felt like a radio had been turned off
It was silent, again.
I glared at that door, hoping for it to swing open at any minute
And then It did
Mr. Fisher stepped in first, shaking the cold off his coat. His boots were dusted with dirt as if he had walked through miles and miles of road just to return home.
Mary followed close behind, her school bag slung over her shoulder, just like always. It was filthy too for some unfathomable reason.
I let out a relieved breath.
They were home.
Finally.
They were both quiet, however. Too quiet.
Mary did not place her bag on the floor, or complain about her day at school. Mr. Fisher didn’t take his shoes off either.
He stood there staring at me from the distance with no facial expression, as Mary started walking towards me.
As she got closer, I noticed that her face was as pale as a ghost
There was a growing smell of rotten meat and smoke.
It grew heavier as she walked closer to my cage
Then Mary’s lips parted.
Strangely, the words didn’t match her voice
It was his voice.
The blackbirds
“This house is dead. And so are you.”
I flinched in horror.
It was only then that I noticed, her eyes were completely black! No white, no color, it was like two black holes on her face
Before I even knew it, everything went cold.
WheretheWindWillGuideNext
Days later, I came back.
I observed from afar.
New folks?
That’s what it appeared to be.
Five of them, to be exact.
Strange humans carrying boxes and other items, their eyes nervously darting around the old, peeling walls. They were still in their early stage of discovery.
Just as I had expected, they found the cage immediately. It stood in the corner, cloaked in rust and dust, forgotten completely.
A woman with dark hair stepped into the room, her lip curling at the sight.
“What’s this? A cage? So that’s where the smell was coming from, huh?” she muttered, leaning down to examine the scene.
She let out a cough as the stench violated her nostrils.
Her partner, a man with a thick beard, walked up behind her, peering over her shoulder.
His eyes narrowed as they landed on the dried remains inside the cage.
“Is that a pigeon in there?” he asked.
His voice twisted from confusion into disgust.
“That thing’s been dead for days, at least. Why would anyone leave a bird in a cage like this?”
“I don’t know,” she scoffed, crinkling her nose
“Doesn’t matter now. This whole place is a mess. I’ll just throw it out.”
With an indifferent motion, she picked up the fragile decaying body and tossed it into the trash recklessly.
Something about that felt bizarre to me
A creature I once spoke with, now reduced to nothing but rotten feathers.
I watched them, but I didn’t feel angry I’d already known what they would do. That was the nature of things. To move on. Life was so easily disposed of. He couldn’t even die with dignity.
They would never understand. But I did.
It’s not just about watching, you know.
I didn’t come back just to stare at what was left behind.
I had flown off, yes, but part of me stayed
Because it’s hard to let go when you don’t know how things end.
People like to pretend they’ve moved on, but deep down, everyone wants to know the final chapter.
The door was open the whole time.
Ironic, isn’t it? An open cage… but a closed mind.
That’s the thing about freedom
Some chase it. Others fear it.
They swim in their delusions and tell themselves that it’s the right path as an excuse to remain comfortable doing what they know deep down is wrong.
And some don’t even realize this until it’s too late.
That’s why I return.
To know
I’m the collector of endings.
Where freedom was near, but fear told it “no ”
After contemplating the scene for some time, the blackbird flew away, not looking back, guided by the wind to his next ending.
