Cuckoo Bird Blue
It started out a normal day
The wind tugged at the trees.
The day started out as always,
Until I heard the voice call to me.
I live alone in my blue house,
A pantry and dim light.
Puzzle pieces in every nook,
Creaking stairs that say goodnight.
My yellow bird whistles a tune,
Every now and then.
When the clock strikes twelve, it never fails
Cuckoo bird sings again.
Then all falls silent in my blue house
The only sound is one.
It's not my bird, nor the wooden stairs,
That voice tells me to run.
All doors are locked from the outside,
There's no place for me to go.
In my blue house the days are gone,
With no way for me to know.
One night my bird stopped whistling,
That blue house I once adored.
The clock strikes twelve and this time it failed,
The cuckoo bird sang no more.
Written by Stephanie (Sterp) Evelyn
I am Sterp. I write dark fiction and have a very unhealthy obsession with disturbing narratives. I am the author of The Cult Called Freedom House: Sophia Rey Book One. My short story The Lost Tea Cup is in Issue 26 of The Literary Hatchet. I am also a painter.
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