Friday Fictioneers, a short, 100 word, story writing adventure comes to us each week.
Joseph Martin held the Myna. He thought about squeezing hard, the problem going away, but he hesitated; he was lost.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “You guys take shiny things, but a small closed knife, 2-inch piece of pine, and 47 wood screws doesn’t make sense. What else have you taken?”
The bird cocked its head, seeming comprehension. It let out a bird cry that could shatter glass. Joe decided his first thought was right, beginning to squeeze.
Through the open door flew 53 Mynas, rescuing their comrade. After, Mr. Martin lay dead, pecked to death as his wife had never done.
Word Count: 100 PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy
