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So, I figured that the appropriate first story post would be this one. I went to my old writing blog, the one we don't mention, and salvaged this little feller from the depths of eternal oblivion. I also fixed it a bit and changed some things in accordance to Jax's review (thank you for that, by the way). All reviews and comments much appreciated! Also, just for clarity's sake: no stealing of my stuff shall be tolerated! 

Title: Bird Talk (Original)
Genre: err, I'm not sure. Quirky character study, maybe? Also, realistic fiction.
Summary: An old man meets a friend of his in the park.
Rating: G. Absolutely no warnings whatsoever.
Word Count: A little under 1000 words

An old man sat down on the bench. It was a lovely Tuesday afternoon in the park; it was sunny, but not too hot or too bright. The park was rather large and very popular among the local people, but at this specific hour the morning joggers had long gone while the children hadn't yet gotten out of school, so the park was mostly empty. That was exactly why the old man had chose this time to meet with a friend. He loved the park, but he didn’t care much for noises. His ears were old and not as good anymore, and he found it was rather difficult to concentrate with much people chattering around him. He also couldn’t hear crickets anymore, which made him rather sad. Birds he could still hear, but most other sounds of the nature were no longer audible to his aging ears.

As he was patiently sitting on the bench, leaning his wrinkled, knobbly hands on the old cane his father had used before him, his friend finally arrived. The old man grinned - unlike some of his old friends, he still had all of his teeth left which made him rather proud. ”There you are! Here I was already thinking you’d forgotten all about our meeting. Not that I could complain, anyway. I think I might’ve gone rather senile myself, so who knows when I'll forget to show up!" He chuckled good-heartedly. "Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came, though. Please, sit down here.” The man patted the bench beside him, and his friend took the chance to claim this spot.

”How has your morning been?” the man asked. ”Mine was rather chaotic, to be frank. Cecily – you remember Cecily, right? My granddaughter? I’m sure I’ve mentioned her many times before – had lost her assignment, the one she has been working on for several weeks now, you know, and she was very upset about that. She wouldn’t stop screaming about it. She was blaming her younger brother – Ed, I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before – for hiding it because of some fight they had had over which TV channel to watch last night. I don’t really understand their obsession with television, I personally find radio programmes much more entertaining. They have more suspense, wouldn’t you agree? Ah, sorry, I tend to forget you don’t listen to radio. Anyway, after much yelling and screaming, my daughter-in-law found the assignment under the sofa in the living room. Cecily had actually lost it herself, so poor Ed was blamed over nothing… Of course, they’re good kids, so they both apologised. At that point they were already late for school, and my son left to drive them. He was unnecessarily angry, I think, it wasn’t the kids’ fault that it turned out like it did. It’s only natural to be upset about something like that, no?”

There was a brief silence as both the old man and his friend watched a young woman with a baby carriage walk past them in a relaxed stride, reading a book as she went.

When she disappeared from view in the curve of the path, the old man sighed. ”You know, I remember when my son was of the age to be pushed around in a carriage like that. And now, both of his children are way too old for that already… Time passes so fast, it almost makes me feel silly. Everything changes constantly, and there’s only one direction time can move. Sometimes I miss my youth, but in the end, I think things are better now. You can’t really compare things like these, but I rather think Cecily and Ed are going to get a much better childhood than I did. The world isn’t what it used to be, you know. Sometimes I just feel it’s hard to keep up.” The man looked at his friend. ”That reminds me! We are going to fly to some southern land, my son’s family and I. They decided to take me with them, because I’ve never been abroad. I’m very excited about that. Maybe you’ve flown somewhere like there, too? I can’t for the life of me remember what the place was called, but it sounded like a pleasant place. I think we’re going next month, after school lets out for the summer. I’ll tell you when I know more.”

The man stood up and touched the rim of his battered old hat in a very polite, old-fashioned manner. ”I must go now so as not to worry anyone back home. They worry if I spend too much time about the town by myself. Silly of them, really - a son worrying about his father's outings! - but I guess that’s just one way of showing they care about me, so I won’t complain.” He sighed, with an absent-minded smile on his face. ”The world just keeps changing, doesn’t it… Flying to a southern country! The things you get to do when you live to be old, eh? Well, I’m just happy I can trust some things to stay as they are, like the silence of this park, or like you.” He gave his friend a warm, honest smile. ”So, same time tomorrow, then? See you then, old friend!” He walked off, a bit awkwardly with his bad hip, but with cheer and confidence in every step he took.

When he had disappeared from the curve of the path, the old pigeon on the bench tilted its head. It shook itself and glanced around before spreading its tattered wings and lifting off. With slow, experienced motions it steered itself as it slowly glided over the green lawn. The bench was left alone at the edge of the gravel path for the moment, waiting until someone else would sit down and share a story with it.


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Hello, o traveler!

You have stumbled upon the humble writings of a girl with lots of stories to tell. Whether these are stories you would like to hear I can't say, but hey, it never hurts to try! ;D

I'll try to keep updating this relatively often, but we'll see how that goes.

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