eat little bird, eat.

just vibes #3, a short story

Photo by Jason Hafso on Unsplash

There is a plate of opened figs by a wooden window sill. A little songbird caught a glimpse of it as she was flying by. It’s purple skin and glistening red center calling out her song. Before she could think it through, her wings have flown her to a nearby tree.

She perches on the branch closest to the window and takes a little peak. Her tiny head and sharp eyes cautious for possible ways she could turn into prey. The sweet succulent scent of the figs broke her out of her inspection.

The air carried its flavor like a nightingale song. Soft and cool and begging you to come closer. It’s sweetness a mouthwatering sin to bathe upon.

Maybe she could sneak a little bite.

She just needed a taste. Just to satiate the dryness in her throat. It couldn’t hurt if no one was there to see it. A flitting glance and with the confidence of a predator, the little songbird swooped in.

Her first bite was bliss.

The red pulp bursts inside her tongue. The taste coated her mouth with sweet wonderful flavor. It felt like beautiful rapture. And she was feral with a need to consume and in what seemed like a wink, the first fruit was gone.

But the sweet little songbird was full of gluttonous lust.

One fruit downed and six more to devour, nothing could have stopped her from getting her taste.

In her frenzy the juices spilled and splattered, its sticky sweet drenching her tiny wings. She could not care, could not hear, could barely see. All she knew now was what tasted sweet.

The sky is now painted purple and orange and pink, and on a wooden window sill was a plate of eaten figs. And at the center lay a sleeping song bird splattered in juices, bursting of fullness, unable to sing her song.

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I wrote the first draft of this piece in a writer’s meet around April. The prompt was to write about figs. I have never eaten a fig, unless you consider eating it in jam form. But I have eaten fruit, and that felt a bit more accessible to me. I wanted to explore temptation and the fall it brings. How pleasure can be distracting to purpose.

Hope this little song bird sings again,

Dhan xx