Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
It looks like it’s going to be a nice morning, a really nice morning. It’s still warm, the temperature hasn’t really dropped overnight, the air is mild and the roughly mown grass just slightly damp with dew. I can’t see the sun yet, but it’s on the rise, the sky doesn’t seem to be as navy as it was a minute ago, it’s definitely lightening to a deeper, lovelier blue. Today is going to be gorgeous, I can feel it in my bones.
I’m the first one up, I think, hold on….oh, no….I’m wrong. Goddamit Red! Here she comes. She’s old and doddery but still waltzes about, puffed up chest as if she just won a bloody Logie. She was on her own before I moved in. I know she lost her own family not too long ago, so it’s understandable that she’s super clingy. Red seems to be able to sniff me out wherever I am. Can’t hardly blame her though, she obviously attracted to my youthful vitality. I know I should be grateful, I didn’t even have a home before I here, I was wandering the streets aimlessly, not sure where to go. I mean, I really love it here, but I just wish she’d leave me alone and give me some space. We hang out for a bit, observe the rising sun, ease into the morning, go for a lazy stroll.
Niceties done, can hardly call me rude, I’ve been civil enough. I know if I head to the garage, she wont follow me. She hates it in there, but I can’t get enough of it. That’s where it’s at, absolutely everything, it’s a veritable bounty of treasures and curios. I spend at least an hour in there each day. There’s a pool table up the back corner, its base is all bowed, the surface unplayable. An old workbench made out of railway sleepers occupies the length of the shed, tools haphazardly piled. There are boxes and boxes of stuff, never read books, kids toys, old school assignments that no one really cares about, six different types of tent for any and all camping occasions. There’s a motorbike in there, it’s old, the tank a dark blue with a slight sparkle to it. I don’t know what it is about it, but the bike intrigues me, it’s fascinating, despite the rust, the engine grime, the torn leather seat and the leaking oil. Every time I’m in here, I seem to end up filthy from messing around with it, all my whites turn to dirty, greasy grey.
I should go check on the babies, I need to be with them now. There’s two of them, but I’m really worried. I’m wary when I approach them, look cautiously, carefully, check every detail, look for signs. It seems there’s no change from yesterday, there’s no movement. I don’t understand, I can’t see what I’m doing wrong. All I can do is sit and wait and hope for the best. I’ve been through this before, it’s not easy, but I’m tough. I just don’t want anyone to take them away, I know I can do this. The day is starting to heat up, I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not about me right now, it’s about them.
I sit for what seems like hours. I can hear sounds in the distance, familiar voices. My heart starts to race, I know what’s coming. I can hear clanging, cupboard doors opening and shutting, I can hear water running, a metal spoon scrape a metal bowl. The security door rattles, I’m up and racing, running like an idiot, fat thighs circling comically, skinny legs dodging obstacles, before I even hear the words.
“Chook, chook chook chook. Here chook, chook, chook.”
I hop up the stairs and gaze up at the silver bowl. My stubby little wings wont get me very far, but they’ll get me where I want to be. I fly up and perch on the edge of the bowl and bury my beak into the warm mash, bits of oats sticking to my feathers. She walks while I balance capably, athletically. I can tell she’s impressed, she’s grinning. Red’s here as well, again, as always, but she couldn’t fly to save her life. She has to be content with waddling along after us. She puts both me and the bowl down, Red is right beside me and we feast as if we’ve never eaten before. I’m totally absorbed with the meal, too busy to notice what she’s doing. I look up, but it’s already too late…..
“Miss Prissy, two eggs today. How lovely, thank you!”
Noooooooooooo…………….