FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #5

A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks. His sneakers echoed the tap-screep, tap-screep, tap-screep of the dusty brown boots in front of him. He had began the pattern walk that matched his grandpa’s a few miles back and now neither one noticed that the boy’s footprints were trailing along the same path as the stooped man’s in front of him. The brilliant amber sky behind the slow moving trio reflected in the parrot’s red feathers and the heat from the setting sun caused the bird to fluff and fan her wings in a quick flurry.

“Shhh… Wisteria. It‘ll be dark soon and we‘ll stop.” the boy whispered to the bird. A little louder he asked, “Won’t we, Grandpa? We’ll stop soon, right?”

Grandpa’s steps became even slower, but didn’t stop. He walked the ageless walk of sadness and the boy fell silent again.

 

Tap-screep. Tap-screep. Tap-screep.

Tap-screep. Tap screep.

“Cheeeekers. Cheeeeekers,” Wisteria’s squawk interrupted the wordless beat of the walkers at the same time that Grandpa turned off the tracks and began to climb a rocky bank. The boy and Wisteria followed. Wisteria danced across the boys’ shoulder as he his head popped over the embankment. His eyes trailed across the grass toward the yellow circle of light that shown from a single bulb. Grandpa was already squatting down into a plastic chair near the gang of men gathered around the checker board in the center of the light.

The boy heard their gravely voices as he crossed the street to join them.

“Didn’t ‘spect you’d make it tonight, Buck.”

Grandpa simply nodded in reply.

“Hmmm, boy’s got that bird tonight?” another rasped.

Another nod.

“You in?”

By the time grandpa nodded a third time, the boy and Wisteria had blended into the shadows behind grandpa’s chair.

The weekly ritual of checkers began. Two players and two more in the “coming up” positions, ready to start at a moment’s notice. The boy and Wisteria watched the game until their eyes grew heavy. There was no banter between the players to waken them and the walk had been so long. Soon Wisteria tucked one foot under her wing and the boy’s head began to nod.

A second before the rusty hinges of the screen door startled them awake, the boy had been dreaming of the tracks and the walking and a train rushing toward them. Grandpa was talking with Wisteria… He was looking at her with a wide smile on his face…. Wisteria was playfully bobbing up and down…the boy tried to yell to Grandpa to get off the track, but he just kept walking. Suddenly Wisteria had squawked in terror and in the dream she had frantically flown from Grandpa to the boy. The slam of the door had become the smack of the train. The boy cried out just as Ms. Ola had walked through the door.

“Buck? What are you doing here? And that bird? And the boy? Buck, are you otta your mind? Half the town has been lookin’ for you since this morning…Buck, did you…well, why did you?…Buck, I’m so sorry….” Ms. Ola went from a raging tirade to a sympathetic inquiry in just the amount of time it took her to flap her arms toward Wisteria to shoo her away from the boy. Wisteria only circled around and landed on his opposite shoulder.

Grandpa looked up from his checker game, but before he could answer Ms. Ola his opponent gave her a look that hushed her questions to a low mumble. He looked her straight in the eye and said, “Git on, Ola. This ain’t no place fer ya tonight. Take the boy on in. Git him somethin’ to eat. Buck, you want something‘?”

Grandpa looked back at the game and shook his head.

Ms. Ola did as she had been told, but try as she might, she could not get Wisteria to stay off the boy’s shoulders or stay outside. Finally, the three of them entered the small house.

The boy walked toward the cluttered kitchen table and sat down while Ms. Ola began her one-sided conversation again.

“Where you two been all day? Why did you follow him? Did you know about all the folks lookin’ fer you? I declare, I don’t know who to call first? Wait. Are you hungry? Let me git you some food? I guess waitin’ a few more minutes won’t hurt anybody.” Like the fly Wisteria was watching buzz inside the plastic cover of the light fixture, Ms. Ola moved around the kitchen clearing the table, making a sandwich, and pouring a glass of milk without stopping to wait for an answer.

The boy watched too. His eyes filled with tears. Wisteria squeaked out, “Minnnie.”

“What’d that bird say? Minnie? Minnie! That fool bird. Don’t she know what happened to yer grandma. I told Minnie that bird was a stupid idea and now look. Minnie! Minnie’s dead you dumb bird! Now hush, before you upset the boy.” Ms. Ola walked toward the door and continued, “Buck, what you gonna do with this bird now Minnie’s gone?”

“Hush, Ola.”

“Ola!”

“I declare, woman!” The three checker players protested, but Grandpa stayed quite.

Hovering around the boy again, Ms. Ola watched him fight back tears as he bit into the peanut butter and bread. “Did you know Buck bought that bird for Minnie when the doctors first told her about the cancer? He told her that the bird came from some fancy island that they would go to when she got better.”

Ms. Ola took a breath, pushed away some of the clutter across from the boy and sat down. “She named her Wisteria because she said when the bird tucked her head, it was like the Wisteria flowers tucking under the leaves. Last time she was over here she went on and on about that dern bird like it was some sort of angel. I think the cancer must have got to her. Yer grandma sat right in that chair and said that fool bird was like her guardian angel. I told her I’d never heard such foolishness. All I ever heard from that bird was the squawkin’ it did that Minnie swore was some sort of talkin.”

She took another short breath and continued, “I told her that too. That squawkin’ weren’t talkin’. All Minnie had to say to that was ‘All that squawks ain’t always a bird.’ It was the cancer getting’ to her brain. Why that don’t even make sense.”

She brushed back a strand of hair and stared straight into Wisteria’s eyes before she began again. “But, you, you’re just a stupid bird. Buck’s had you on his shoulder since she passed like you were his angel now. Well, what ya doin’ in here tonight? Why ain‘t you out there at the checker table, prancing around and showin‘ off.”

Wisteria’s answer was a very clear hiss in Ms. Ola’s direction.

Ola continued, “Yeap, right on his shoulder until today. And right at the funeral too. You flew straight from Buck to the boy.”

She bobbed her head toward the boy, “Have you had that bird on your shoulder since the funeral?”

Before the boy could answer, she bobbed back toward the bird, “ I bet you ain’t left his shoulder since they left the cemetery.”

She started the stream of questions toward the boy again, “Did you walk all day? With that bird? Is that where you’ve been all day? Walkin’ the tracks? Didn’t Buck ever stop?”

As Ola began to understand that while the whole town had been searching for the boy and his grandpa they had been walking mindlessly for hours on the railroad tracks. “Oh! Ohh, my. Ohhh, my goodness. That crazy ol‘ man. What was he doin‘ walkin‘ the tracks today. The day they buried Minnie.”

She moved toward the couch. “Well, never you mind. You can sleep here. I’ll make a bed fer ya. Buck can come in when he’s done. Ain’t no need for you to stay up. We’ll lock that bird in the bathroom.”

Just as Ms. Ola began to fan a quilt across the couch, they heard a flurry of noise outside. Wisteria gave a shrill, primal sound that could have never been mistaken for a word. It filled the room and spilled out of the house. The door slammed against the wall as Ola ran out.

The checker table was tipped over and all the players were gathered around Grandpa’s chair. One was shaking Grandpa by the shoulders, another was checking his pulse. The third turned to Ola and shouted, “Call 9-1-1! Buck ain’t breathin’!”

Ola pushed back inside past the boy and Wisteria, both looking on wide-eyed and silent. She reached for the phone and began talking before she began dialing.

“What? He ain’t breathin’ That fool. Walkin’ all day! What was he thinking? And on the day they buried his wife. Fool!”

“Shut up, Ola, and dial!”

None of the checker players or Ola noticed the boy, with Wisteria on his shoulder, step out of the house and walk quietly out of the light.

They crossed the road and slipped down the rocky embankment. The boy began walking, tap-screep, tap-screep, tap-screep. The white moon had moved overhead. It illuminated the side-by-side tracks until they became one on the horizon. Wisteria fluffed her feathers and nestled against the boy. She hummed, “hhhhooooommm, hhhooooommmm” as the boy with a parrot on his shoulder went walking along the railway tracks.

back to Contest #5