Kreative Kue 149 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
John W Howell, author of the John Cannon trilogy of My GRL, His Revenge, Our Justice and Circumstances of Childhood, and who blogs at Fiction Favorites, sent:
“I don’t often come this way.”
“Well, the neighborhood is a little sketchy.”
“What do you mean by sketchy?”
“Take those two birds we just passed for example.”
“Those guys behind us?”
“Yeah, didn’t you think they were a little odd?”
“I thought they were beautiful. Those feathers were something else.”
“What about the way they looked at us?”
“I didn’t notice anything.”
“The one standing sneered.”
“Sneered? How is that possible he has a bill like us.”
“Maybe it was the look in his eye.”
“You are way too self-conscious. Not all birds can be like you and me.”
“Check out these two weirdos up ahead.”
“Those beautiful black and brown guys?”
“Yup those two.”
“What’s the problem?”
“You ever see a black and brown bird before?”
“No can’t say I have.”
“That’s just what I’m talking about. How do you know they can be trusted.”
“Are you saying because they look different from us maybe they can’t be trusted?”
“How about you, Can you be trusted?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course, I can be trusted. Why would you ask?”
“Let’s face facts here. You and I are the only white birds on this block.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“Don’t you think those other birds are wondering if you can be trusted because you have no beautiful feathers?”
“Why would they think that?”
“Why do you?”
My effort was:
“Tell me again; what did the email say?” Algernon, a male Painted Goose said to his mate, Arabella.
“How many times do I have to tell you this? It said that every kind of animal and bird has to go into the park in pairs, a male and a female,” Arabella replied.
“Are you sure this is the right park?”
“Hard to say. There was nothing in the email that said which park, but we’re not the only pair here, so if we’ve got it wrong, so have others.”
“Just look behind. There’s a pair of white geese and a pair of stripy ones.”
“Oh yes, so there are. The white ones are called Snow Geese. What are the stripy ones called?”
“I don’t know! George and Mildred?”
“No, stupid. I don’t know what they’re called, do I?”
“Go and ask them.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not going to talk to them.”
“They’re bigger than we are.”
“That’s enough. I’m not risking life and limb talking to them. They might be aggressive.”
“And we’re not?”
“Even so? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Dunno. It’s just what I say when you’ve got a good point but I don’t want to admit it.”
“Okay, then. Will you talk to the white ones? I’m worried we might be in the wrong park.”
“They’re a bit big, too.”
“Look. You’re supposed to be the man in this relationship. Are you seriously expecting me, your mate that you’re supposed to defend and protect, to do your dirty work for you?”
“I always remember one thing.”
“The female of the species is deadlier than the male.”
“Oy! You can’t use that, that’s my saying.”
“I resent that.”
“I may be a lot of things, but I wouldn’t say I’m epithetic.”
“Oh, Lord preserve me.”
“From what? Is there a flood coming? Ha ha ha.”
Close behind them, the Snow Geese had been half-listening to the bickering.
“What are you two arguing about?” Frosty, the male Snow Goose asked.
“It wasn’t me, it was the woman,” Algernon replied.
“It takes two to tango,” Frosty’s mate, Ella, said.
“You want to make something of it?” Arabella hissed.
“Leave it,” Algernon advised, “it’s not worth fighting over.”
“What isn’t?” Frosty asked.
“I dunno. This email thing.”
The two geese from the back decided to join in the fray.
“Does anyone know where we’re supposed to be going?” the male asked.
“Who are you?” Arabella wanted to know.
“I am Enoka and this is my wife, Kalena.”
“Not George and Mildred, then?”
“We didn’t know what you were, so that’s the names we gave you.”
“Who are George and Mildred?”
“They were characters in a…” Arabella started, then continued, “forget it. You had to be there. What are you, anyway?”
“We’re Nene, Hawaiian Geese.”
“Oh, that explains your unusual names. So, what do you know about this email?”
“We weren’t sure, but we saw you and the white guys headed this way, so thought we’d follow you. Anyway, Kalena has just been online to try to see if she could find out some more about it—”
“It seems there was a typo in the email.”
“A typo? What is it?”
“It’s an error (as of spelling) in typed or typeset material, but that’s not important right now. What is important is that when it said park—”
“It didn’t mean park—”
“What did it mean?”
“It meant Ark.”
“Ah, I see,” Algernon said, happy that the error had been identified and corrected.
“One thing,” Arabella said.
“What?” Kalena asked.
“What’s an Ark?”
“It’s a bloody big boat that everybody has to get into so they won’t be drownded when the herfing great flood comes, that’s what it is.”
“On more thing,” Arabella said.
“What now?” Kalena asked.
“So we can fly. And when we’re not flying, we can sit quite happily on the surface of the water. Can you see what that means?”
“Enthral me. What does that mean?”
“It means we don’t need no boat. We’ll be in our element.”
Kalena and Enoka stormed off, muttering, “Bloody smart-asses. We don’t make the rules…”
On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at firstname.lastname@example.org before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – pingbacks don’t often work.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.