Flight to freedom

Last verse from ‘I know why the caged bird sings’ : Maya Angelou

Mr Jones irritably closed the cage door as he went to answer the phone in the hall. Whatever had been said by the caller caused him to leave the house in a temper. The front door slammed and Horace watched the old man climb into his car and drive off in a cloud of hazy exhaust fumes. Turning his head he noticed that the cage door had swung open. And, like a perfect alignment of the planets, a window to the garden was open too.
This was his moment to escape, but faced with the possibility of freedom after five years of imprisonment he was gripped by anxiety. He had no plan; he had never thought of the possibility of escape. Horace irresolute, decided he would go as far as the window ledge and see what it felt like. He could always go back and Mr Jones would be none the wiser. With this decision made Horace left the cage, crossed the table that the cage was standing on and climbed through the window.
Standing on the sill he was stimulated by smell of the air, by the the breeze that gently ruffled his feathers, but frightened by the noise of the cars and buses that rushed along the street. He looked longingly across the street. He had often watched the birds perched on the branches of the trees opposite, standing on the ridges of the roofs or flying freely across the piece of the sky visible from his cage. He wanted to be able to do that sort of thing: fly across the sky. But, right now, for Horace flying would be a problem; He couldn’t remember ever flying.
He flapped his wings experimentally, then throwing caution to the winds launched himself into the air.

***

The prompt for my writing group task was to write a piece on the subject Freedom. As it was Poetry Week I decided to base my story on the poem ‘I know why the caged bird sings’ by the wonderful poet Maya Angelou. Cageing a bird is extraordinarily cruel. I intend developing the story of Horace the parrot……

 

 

Photo Shoot

The bride’s parents looked across the throng of guests at their daughter, radiant beside her new husband. Allah had indeed blessed them.
As the missile was released high in the blue sky to search for its target, a joystick was pushed slightly to the left, tilting the drone in the warm air, allowing it’s onboard cameras to confirm the strike.
In a far off continent, the drone pilot watched the silent explosion blossoming on his screen; a pleasing floral shape.
‘I’ve brought your coffee, Sir.’
‘Thanks Tyler. Heard you’re getting wed on Saturday. You have yourself a real nice day.’