We Birds

Have you ever been the type to walk among birds when the stars have died and the sun and moon have gone out?

The birds are calling to me from outside my window, “What are you doing up this late?” I answer their call by abandoning my bed for their claws that drip the blood of someone else.

They’re waiting for me on my porch. I follow them as they take flight into the sky. They are my eyes in the air, I am their devil on the ground. They are the only friends an insomniac can have. All real people are asleep, and it’s too real to be with another insomniac on a never-ending insomniac spree.

So, it’s just the birds and me calling to remind the sun to come. Yes, I have joined the birds in their call. Yelling at the top of our lungs for that star to come and wake the rest of the world because without it, I believe, No one would wake up.

Aigner Loren Wilson is a queer Black SFWA, HWA, and Codex writer. She was listed on the honors list for the Otherwise Fellowship award for 2019. Her work has appeared in Tor Nightfire, Rue Morgue, Arsenika, and more. She offers a writing craft newsletter to people who want to become better writers and publish quality pieces.