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My First Short Story

Pointing at the bird, my mother told me and my little brother that this bird that never rests has better work ethic than us.

I was nine years old when I noticed that a bird was building a nest inside my “home”. For weeks, I would lie on my bed and watch the bird carefully build its nest. The bird made countless trips to and from the nest to collect materials to build its home. Pointing at the bird, my mother told me and my little brother that this bird that never rests has better work ethic than us. And that it is time for us to shape up. I think she should observe some Magazine editors here, but I suppose it is a bad thing to find flaws in other people.

I and my brother soon started hatching plans to trap the bird and its baby in the night. We even bought a cage. “But, we should wait for the right moment”, we told each other. We waited and waited and waited. In those days, I read as much as I can, about birds.

One night, we both decided that the time has come. We woke up in the night after our parents had slept, and started walking towards the nest, holding each other’s hands with a torch and a cage. When we were about to trap the birds, we noticed that the birds had left that day evening. We stared at each other, with an expression of astonishment on our faces. And then we went back to our beds feeling betrayed, with incommunicable discomfort. Continue reading