Black Feathers: Dark Avian Tales: An Anthology by Ellen Datlow

Author:Ellen Datlow [Datlow, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781681773216
Amazon: 168177321X
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2017-02-06T23:00:00+00:00

I examined the red baseball cap. It had a cartoon dinosaur on the front. The day I found it I’d almost burned it. Instead, I hid it in a drawer in my bedroom. It was a sign from Blyth, I believed. I’d asked for help and he’d given me this sign.

So it was that two weeks after the boy disappeared, I set out to cycle the six miles to Trecastle. I’d never learned to drive, much less owned a car. It never seemed necessary. The caravan park, I discovered after enquiring at the post office, was a mile northwest of the village.

Once there I was at a loss. I hadn’t given much thought as to what I’d do or who I’d speak to. I bought a tea from the café in the reception building and took it outside to a bench. I watched cars come and go, families setting out for the reservoir or the Black Mountain. More people left on bikes or on foot. Two girls approached the bench. One of them, a red-haired girl, stood looking up at me. “You’re the man with the bird,” she said.

I recognized her as one of the kids I’d met in Glasfynydd. I looked around for her parents.

“Is the bird here?”

“I don’t think you should talk to me.”

“Why not?”

Her friend laughed and said, “I knew it. I knew you made it up.”

“Made what up?” I asked.

The red-haired girl pointed at her friend. “She thinks I lied about the bird.”

I sipped my tea. “You mean Blyth. He’s around here somewhere. I expect he’s minding his business.”

“What business?” the other girl said.

“Bird business.”

“Does he do tricks?”

“When he has a mind to.”

“Call him,” the red-haired girl said.

I was about to call Blyth when a woman came out of the building. “Come here now, Ellie. You too, Lizzie. Stop bothering the man.”

I told her they weren’t bothering me. “We’re just talking.”

“Well, they’re not allowed to talk to strangers,” she said, agitated. “Not after what happened to that boy.”

“It’s okay, we’re not exactly strangers. Isn’t that right?”

Before the girl could respond, a man approached. “What’s going on?”

“He’s got a bird does tricks,” the girl said.

“Who are you?” the man said.

“He was talking to the girls,” the woman said. She made it seem like an accusation. The man glared at me. Another couple emerged from the building and stood watching us. The woman said, “He says they’re not strangers.”

“We met before, her and some others, in the forest a while back. We talked, that was all.”

“He had birds,” the girl said. “Two were dead and another one danced and did tricks.”

The other couple pressed forward. “What’s that?” the second woman wanted to know.

“He makes birds do tricks for kids,” the first man said.

“Are you staying at this site?” the second man said. “You know these kids?”

I shook my head and scratched my stomach. I felt tense and agitated, wondering if I should tell them about the red baseball cap.

“What are you doing here?” the first woman said. “Why’re you speaking to my girl?”

More people came out of the reception building.

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