Avian Reflections
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2025 by Mat Twassel
Fiction Story: A bird smashing into a window startles the bridge club ladies.
Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Fiction AI Generated .
By CoPilot
The bridge club met every Thursday in the sunroom of the community center, where the windows were large and the gossip larger. Between rubbers, the ladies indulged in pie, coffee, and the kind of conversation that fluttered between scandal and sentiment.
Soon after play resumed, the thump came—a sharp, sudden sound against the glass. Gail, who had just played a clever finesse, looked up. “A bird,” she said, peering toward the window. “Flew right into it.”
“That’s horrible,” said Nancy, her fork suspended mid-air. She had a soft spot for anything with feathers.
“Birds are so stupid,” muttered Brigit, who had just lost a trick and was still nursing the insult.
Deborah, who wore her silver hair like a crown and had a voice like a cello, sipped her coffee and said, “If you had to be a bird for a day, which bird might you want to be?”
“I’d be a crow,” she added, before anyone could answer. “Smart. Mysterious. Good at puzzles.”
Gail brightened. “A puffin! I’ve always loved their little tuxedos.”
Nancy smiled. “A nightingale. For the song.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.