Feed the Birds

 

I watched as the little bird flew around me and then it started flying forwards. I stood quietly watching it. It came back towards me and flew around my head a few times. It flew away from me, turned and flew back towards me.

I must be slow. It did this several times until I hit my forehead and said “Wake up! He wants you to follow him.”

He flew away again and turned around. When he saw me following he flew on, turning around every few seconds to check up on me.

At last we came to a decrepit house standing all alone in a clearing. The bird hovered at the door before flying to the window. He hovered again before flying back to the door. When he went back to the window I followed and peered in. I was horrified to see an old man sprawled on the floor, his leg at an amazing, awful angle. I rushed to the door and tried the handle. I breathed a sigh of relief when it opened. The bird flew in with me and circled the man’s head.

“Hello,” I called from the doorway.

A weak voice muttered “Thank God!”

I rushed to the old man’s side and patted his shoulder. “Let me call for help.”

“No signal.” His voice was edged with pain.

I walked around outside till I got a signal to make the call. I listened to the advice of the young lady on the other end after I had given her the details she required.

I walked back to the cottage. After checking that he was okay I filled a glass with water. I held his head up and held the glass to his lips.

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“At about seven o’clock,” he said. “I always feed the birds at seven. How did you know to come here?”

“A little bird told me,” I replied.