Hello from New Zealand!
As a writer, the most important app on my phone is Notes. Although some authors will say that ideas forgotten are ideas not good enough for stories, I disagree. Often to readers like you, the most difficult bit about writing might look like coming up with ideas. But as most people who write fiction will tell you, ideas are cheap. They are simply how we writers look at the world. There is even a great book on the subject called Steal Like An Artist by Austin Kleon which I think encapsulates the subject perfectly. Just like a photographer looks at the world differently, always searching for good composition and lighting, writers look for the sparks of stories.
After finishing the last story, I was at a bit of a loss for what to do next so I consulted my note titled Short Story Ideas and chose this one. I won’t get into the idea until afterwards as my stories are up for interpretation but if you’re interested in how I go from idea to finished story, let me know.
Dedicated to Nuggy, who taught me to appreciate every moment with those I care for.
All humans were odd, but the man sitting on the bench was more so. It was raining and the shadegiver had lost its leaves, leaving it to soak into his thick clothes.
From his perch, Ami studied him. In some important way, he didn’t fit in. Hundreds of people passed every day without taking note of his friend.
Satisfied that it was safe, he glided down to land on the slick stones before the bench. The man didn’t flinch as he had on the first day, and as Ami pranced forward a few steps, he instead bared his teeth.
At first, Ami had backed away but he soon figured this was a sign of mirth rather than aggression. His fellows mostly agreed but Ami was sure that it meant more than that. After all, he always saved a little of whatever he was eating for Ami.
He hopped forward a bit more then pecked at the ground randomly, stopping every few seconds to cock his head. Usually, he only had to do this a few times before the man would feed him but now the bared teeth were gone and he stared off into the distance, Ami forgotten.
Gaining a little courage, Ami flapped up onto the bench beside him, just out of reach and did the same little dance. Finally, the man looked at him, the bared teeth returning for a second before a wad of what he was eating landed on the bench beside him. If Ami could have bared his own teeth, he would have.
Rain and sun meant little to Ami but the rays of gold that filtered through the bare branches touched the man gently, lifting his spirits with invisible wings. He was, in drier weather, somewhat closer to his fellow humans. With hoods down, they noticed him a little more. Occasionally they would throw something shiny his way. These things, Ami had come to understand, were very important. They could be exchanged for food and that, of course, meant that Ami would get some too.
While the others flapped around the large containers of waste that sometimes contained food, Ami waited by the bench for his friend. Today he had something special for him. In his beak, he carried one of the very shiny objects that were so important to the man. Today he would bare his teeth a lot!
Yet, by the time the man stumbled around the corner, the sun was well into the sky. He wobbled through the flow of the crowd, head drooped, eyes down.
The man perched on the bench and slumped back, eyes closed, chest heaving.
Ami waited for him to move, to place the container out in front of the bench that would perhaps capture the interest of the passing crowd. Sometimes he would even bring out a shiny box that made beautiful sounds when he touched it to his mouth. Instead, he slid down further and curled up, pulling his limbs to his chest.
Maybe he was hungry. Ami hopped forward and back onto the bench. When the man didn’t look up, he flapped his wings. Finally, he opened his eyes. Ami proudly hopped onto one of his limbs and dropped the shiny object before retreating. There was the briefest glimpse of teeth before the man’s hand closed over the shiny object and returned to his prior position, the gift quickly forgotten.
Ami retreated to the branches of the shade-giver. Something was wrong but he couldn’t communicate with this creature, not when he was curled up like that.
Ami perched on the branches of the shade-giver well before sunrise. He’d spent all night searching for those shiny disks that the humans prised so much. The results of his efforts lay in a neat pile at one end of the bench. He watched it carefully but nobody else seemed to take any notice of it.
The morning dragged on and the earlier brightness was replaced by dark clouds that promised rain. When his friend finally stumbled through the crowd, it was well past midday.
Something about his face was off too, the way it drooped down at the edges. He didn’t even spare Ami a glance as he slumped down on the slats, knocking half of the disks from the bench. Appearing not to notice, he just closed his eyes.
Food. Perhaps the man was unable to find any food. Determined to right the situation, Ami set off.
At first, he joined his fellows digging in the rubbish bins but quickly realised that the man was unlikely to eat anything that the other humans had already thrown out.
He resorted to taking food from the passers-by, swooping down and taking what he could. However much he tried, the man just lay on the bench, the growing pile of food untouched.
The night brought rain but the man remained where he was, knocking the rest of Ami’s work off the bench as he stretched out, his feet hanging off one end.
Unwilling to leave the man alone in the cold and wet, Ami tucked his head under his wing in the branches overhead, trying his best to ignore the dampness that seeped into his feathers.
The man stirred twice in his sleep, waking Ami with his attempts to stand before slumping back down. The second time he even flashed his teeth at Ami before returning to his slumber but by the time morning came he barely moved.
As soon as it was light enough to do so, Ami flew off in search of food. The man hadn’t eaten anything of what he’d brought the day before, but he had to keep trying.
He returned just as the rain stopped. He left what he’d found beside the man’s head, now the only clear space on the bench and perched on the back of the bench to wait.
The day passed by but the man didn’t stir again, and even the small movements became less and less frequent.
He tried a few times to gain the attention of one of the passers-by but all he got was flailing limbs or a loud noise that sent him flapping back where they couldn’t reach him.
As the night closed in again, Ami tried waking him, first by flapping his wings above him and then perching on one of his limbs and digging his claws in just enough that he might stir. Still, his friend didn’t wake.
By noon the next day, Ami was exhausted. A morning spent trying to gain the attention and help of the other humans seemed impossible. Perhaps it was. To them, he was no more than a rat, something irritating that wouldn’t go away despite many loud noises and flapping limbs. He was sure that if they were quick enough to seize him out of the air, he would be long gone.
But, he couldn’t give up. His friend now relied on him more than ever, lying there prone on the bench. It wasn’t raining but the weather was turning colder and these fragile creatures were not meant to roost out in the open like this, not when the shade-giver had no leaves.
And so, in a last-ditch attempt, Ami turned his focus to the humans that were most out of place in the meagre crowd that passed. The small ones.
He’d previously avoided them from well-learned lessons about getting too close to the young of other creatures. The boldest of his fellows were wary of that.
Yet, undeterred, Ami picks out a particularly curious one with colourful clothing, clinging to the legs of two larger humans. It was a she, and in the way that she humans did, the fur on her head half covered her face when she moved about. But she looked out at the man and the bench with her head to one side.
Hopping forward, Ami left the security of the bench and sidled as close to the creature as he could, wary of gaining the attention of the two larger humans.
Almost immediately, the young one reached out a limb toward him. Ami hopped back, excitement ruffling his feathers. And, in one movement, she pulled away from the other two and stumbled after him.
One of the bigger ones made a noise but she was too fast and pranced after him, sometimes using a hand or two to keep her upright.
Reaching the man, Ami hopped up onto his shoulder to show that this was his friend.
She paused and looked at the man but before she could do anything, the two larger ones were there, lifting her up and away from Ami.
But just before they turned away, Ami hopped over to land on the face of the man and flapped his wings. The message seemed to get across because the largest of the two crouched down and shook him. Not before Ami took flight again, landing in the safety of the shade-giver.
The night was too cold to remain at the bench, now empty after the other humans had taken his friend away. And when he returned the next morning, everything was covered in a layer of snow that made perching uncomfortable.
Still, he would await his friend’s return. He could almost see it, the man lumbering around the corner, his teeth bared in that friendly way, wrapped up against the cold. He would reach out and pet Ami, sometimes even letting him sit on his shoulder while he searched for food.
But the morning wore on and the snow started up again, driving most of the humans from the streets until it was just him, the bench and the shade giver. When he grew hungry, Ami scratched away the snow for that which he’d found for the man and tried to ignore how cold it was in his beak.
Even Ami’s fellows soon retreated to the sheltered roosts to outwait the cold. Yet he stayed, holding onto a tiny bit of hope
As the daylight began to fade, his head drooped. His friend would not return, not today. And so, finally hungry enough for something not cold and wet, he spread his wings and… closed them again.
Someone was coming. Stumbling out of the snow came a figure, wrapped up so that only their face could be seen.
And it was not his friend, it was the little one from the previous day.
Behind her, two large shapes watched the little one approach but didn’t stop her as she half slid, half waddled over to the bench. Ami hopped down to her eye level. Clutched in the little girl’s fist were flowers that shouldn’t be out in weather this cold. All the same, she laid them on the bench and then, stuffing her hand in a pocket, pulled out a handful of seeds. She extended her hand towards Ami. If he could have bared his teeth, he would have.
I hope you enjoyed that! I felt very invested in the characters as I was writing them and I hope that comes across in the prose.
As I said earlier, my stories can be interpreted any way you like and my intention with them only helps me add more depth and emotion to the stories. I’m not sure where I came up with the idea but the initial idea was about a man and a pigeon who picked coins off the street for him. Before I started this story, I worked out my intent which was to tell a story about watching the health of a close one decline but being unable to do much about it.