All the Pretty Faces by Rita Herron

Author:Rita Herron [Herron, Rita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2016-03-28T23:00:00+00:00

Silas Grimley opened up his blog called The Bird Diaries and skimmed his last entry.

His father used to make him keep a journal cataloging the details of every bird of prey they’d rescued, any injuries the animal had sustained, and the treatment they’d given the bird.

He’d also performed experiments on the birds.

Some that’d made the birds sick and turn violent toward humans.

When the birds had died, he’d let the raptors clean the bones, then his father collected them. Together they’d made intricate collages for the walls.

Silas kept some in his apartment back in LA.

After the attack, Silas had started writing about the horrors of what had happened to him and how he’d become a collector of bones. The first stories depicted his early years when his mother left and his father became obsessed with the birds.

Silas had been terrified of the sharp talons and beaks and had shied away from helping his father.

Showing fear had infuriated the man. Determined to teach him to be strong, he’d forced Silas into the pens.

Flooded with images of the hawks and vultures circling above his head, pecking at his face and arms and hands, Silas exhaled. The memory of the birds ripping his flesh from his hands and face with their claws was so strong that he felt as if it was happening all over again. He could still smell the metallic scent of his own blood.

He placed his fingers on the keyboard and began to describe the little boy’s tentativeness as his father had shoved him into the pen. His father had always worn gloves when he’d worked with the falcons, but sometimes they’d pecked through the thick fabric and clawed through his shirt.

His father had been proud of those scars.

In this story, Silas decided to make the boy fight back instead of cowering like a coward.

The boy grabbed a stick and beat at the birds, but each swing of the stick seemed to only enrage the wild animals more. Their hisses and screeched attack calls rent the air as they swarmed and descended on the boy.

Bloody and aching from the claw marks, the boy crawled to the door of the pen and managed to unlatch it. Blood dripped from his hand and arm as he shoved it open.

The birds continued to attack, tearing at his flesh as he dragged himself through the opening in the dirt. Mustering all the strength he could, he pushed the pen door open wide. They rushed to escape. They flapped and soared to the sky.

He’d freed them and saved himself.

His father’s bellow boomed through the ridges, and he sagged with defeat. He’d never really be free, not until his father was buried and he could flee the mountains himself.

Just like the falcons and eagles.

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