PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Carter stared out the window, his chin resting on the sill. He counted the birds sitting atop the wire. Sixty-eight. Another had joined the sixty-seven that had been there yesterday, which had been sixty-six the day before. Each day another joined the others, and although Carter watched them almost endlessly, he never saw one leave.
One bird sat there for each day since what his parents had dubbed “the accident.” They were beginning to weigh the line down-a mirror of the guilt weighing on him. It hadn’t been an accident. He’d meant to smother his sister with that pillow.
—
Like Carter, I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts lately, but not because I’ve smothered anyone with a pillow. I don’t know why, but I do know that it’ll pass. It always does.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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May 7th, 2016 at 2:41 AM
It’s a great metaphor for guilt, but I would have liked to know what was causing the birds to sit there
May 7th, 2016 at 5:44 AM
Carter’s having a hard time living with what he’s done, as it should be.
May 7th, 2016 at 6:53 AM
Brilliant and original on the metaphors for the pic. Intriguing story! Super duper, Adam!