Categories
Short stories

What About Feathers?

There was a loud knock. It’s that kind of place. There’s always a noise, something falling to pieces, asking to be repaired.

I was working. Trying to write a novel. I’d been trying for years, decades, but now I’d finally got into the rhythm of it. I’d just passed 1000 words for the day.

I walked around and lit a cigarette. Nothing. Work from home sucks.


“Have you seen this? Come and take a look,” said my wife, Amelia.

Not now, I’m in the middle of a really juicy bit. If I leave now I’ll never be able to recapture the feeling.

“Fine, ok, fine,” I said and mooched over to the living room where she was pointing to the window.

“Do you see this?”

I couldn’t see anything, honestly.

“Can’t you see it?”

I strained my eyes, generally unable to see anything in life other than a laptop screen with a lack of words on it, to see what she was on about. It’s a…

“Pigeon. It’s the outline of a pigeon?”

“Poor thing,” she said.

“Look at the fucking thing!” For some reason I was angry. Was my window scratched? Dented. Broken?

We went to the garden. A cold winter afternoon with a sun like stage 3 cancer. God, shut up.

“The cat must’ve got it,” I said, seeing as there was no dead bird anywhere.

“What about feathers?”

“What about feathers?!” She had this stupid fucking annoying way of asking things.

I looked at the patio. Overgrown lawn. Wild bushes. No feathers.


That night, in bed, turned to the side, I kept thinking about suicide. Not mine, because as Emil Cioran expressed, it’s always too late, but the bird’s. I decided that I should write a scene with an unexpected suicide. A lady with hat and feather boa. She’s got it all, except death.

Bogdan Tiganov

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s