For Want of a Feather
It was that time of the year again.
That time of the year when people closed their doors, shut the curtains, locked their windows. When there was an unspoken curfew past dark. When shady peddlers would come out from their hiding places to sell protection charms and other little spells for good luck. When the truck spraying different kinds of foul-smelling sanitation mist would roll about the streets every two days. When new, temporary but very high-paying jobs would pop up.
The jobs of cleaning up dead bird carcasses.
That time of the year when hundreds and hundreds of birds would turn up dead. Tiny, unmoving corpses strewn about everywhere. That time of the year when you'd hear a soft pitter patter on the roof and think it's raining but instead it's just a downpour of dead birds.
Of course, some people took advantage of it as well. So many dead birds, without the ethical or environmental issues that were connected to hunting. There would be business, soon after. Dream catchers and keychains and hair accessories, all made with bright, colourful, real bird feathers.
Ava could admire the drive, always. The practicality of making the most from a situation; after all, that’s what she always did.
It was peaceful, these days, walking around town. Not many people would be out, unless absolutely necessary. Most shops were shut down. It was quiet, and the weather was nice. Ava could walk about unbothered; something she cherished dearly.
Although the closed shops meant she couldn’t go and get her favourite hazelnut bar from Mrs. Nate’s shop. A tragedy, really, hers was one of the only two stores that stocked it, and the other one was too long of a walk than she wanted to take today. Although the shopkeeper wasn’t too hard on the eyes. Maybe tomorrow.
There had just been a bird shower a few hours ago, so there shouldn’t be another for several hours more. People were still afraid though, but Ava couldn’t understand why. It was obvious the rains followed patterns. Perhaps not set in stone, but patterns nonetheless. Unless someone did something to set them off.
Either way, it’s not like she was going to complain.
She just pulled out her beloved umbrella from her handbag and snapped it open, the edges decorated with the dead bird feathers which swung and shivered in the wind. She was all for supporting small businesses, after all. She’d even chosen the bird feathers herself, the artist, Lytta, all too happy for the extra cash required to make custom orders. And she’d deserved it– the umbrella was quite a work of art.
It wasn’t even that sunny out right now, but she wanted to show off. She always wanted to show off.
It was a bit funny, really. From that time when little boys would leave out dead birds on her doorstep to scare her, to now when she walked around with umbrellas, clothes, and hair decorated with these feathers, from dead birds, unafraid and bold.
She’d been so small then, a little naive. Scared easily. Devastated at the thought of even a single dead bird. Devastated at the thought of death itself. And those kids had taken full advantage of it. But that was before, a long time ago. She knew better now, death was a natural part of life, and she hadn’t been afraid in a long time. She’d embraced it, dead birds or no.
It also had the added effect of making adults a little wary of her, while making the children absolutely fascinated by her. Staring, complimenting, and asking questions, questions that Ava was all too happy to answer. She’d almost become a free brand ambassador for Lytta’s business.
It wasn’t even that odd, actually, and she didn’t understand why people thought her using feather products was a big deal. A lot of people used them. Nearly every household had at least one charm against evil spirits made from these bird feathers. That was considered good luck. It’s just Ava they all disliked, for some reason she couldn’t fathom. Given, she’d worn these things a lot longer than they’d been common, which made them suspicious of her, but really?
Ava just walked, making sure to step around the rotting corpses on the ground. Overhead, she could feel some carrion birds circling, and smiled at the image they made. Birds really were magnificent creatures. So majestic in their flight, so beautiful, with their varied plumages and bird songs– even the screeches sounded like symphonies if you listened carefully enough. Which is why those bully tactics had been so effective on her, she’d never made her love for birds a secret.
But the past was in the past, it’s not like anyone was going around leaving dead birds at people’s houses anymore– that was just seen in poor taste.
Ava vastly preferred birds to most humans, even when said birds were vultures tearing out the intestines of an unfortunate pigeon in front of her. She wrinkled her nose a little at the scene, but then just walked past.
She’d like to be home for the next shower, after all.
It wasn’t an unexpected scene, nor one that bothered her. She’d known the consequences of her decisions before she’d made them. She just hurried past more corpses and more blood, feeling a little sorry for the workers who would have to clean up all of this, but not sorry enough.
She stepped up to the porch of her house, pulling out her house keys (with a feather keychain, of course) and unlocked the door, stepping in. The smell of dead bird was even stronger inside than it was outside, so was that of bird shit.
Not that she minded.
Closing her umbrella, she stuffed it in the umbrella stand, and pulled off her shoes. Another key, this one hanging from a chain around her throat, went into the little, inconspicuous lock on another door, which swung open soundlessly.
That was the only thing soundless about the room, for as soon as Ava opened the door, she was hit by a cacophony of voices. Bird song and symphony-like screeching.
Oh, she felt sorry for those workers, but not enough to stop.
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