” It was just sitting there, staring at me with that one orange eye. Just staring. Shuffling its feathers as if getting ready to take off.”
He was terrified even as he recounted the fateful events of that day.
The day had begun in pretty normal fashion.
Wake up, yawn, stretch, hunt for his glasses, stumble over to the loo. Brush teeth, do business while reading the business section, bathe, then get dressed.
Off to work, the usual morning rush hour with its honking traffic and cross-lane swearing.
Reach work, find a spot a mile away from the parking lot entrance and trudge to the main building.
That’s where the ‘normal’ ended.
He felt like he was being watched, and not by the security cameras.
Someone, or something, was eyeing him.
Whoever it was, he, she or it, was not in the building. They were on the outside.
He began staring out the window of his cabin. All he saw was a pigeon. A lone bird fluttering about.
It saw him, turned and sped at him. At the last second it pulled up, barely hitting the glass.
He was already under the desk, shaking and white.
He’d seen this pigeon before. It flew around his neighbourhood very often, but he didn’t pay it much attention.
What in Heaven’s name was this bird flying around his office building, twenty miles away from home?
He checked for the bird, then ran to the bathroom on the opposite side of the building. He found no one in there, which was odd, considering it was a unisex loo and was usually occupied by chattering and gossiping women.
He walked into a random cubicle and locked the door, sitting down and trying to understand what was happening.
Just when he’d calmed down to a normal enough heart-rate, he heard a fluttering and flapping.
Slowly, shaking, he looked up, jumping out of his skin at what he saw.
It was the pigeon.
An evil looking, one-orange-eyed bird with a glass tube stuck to its leg.
It shuffled its feathers, as if to take off. It cooed a little; to him, menacingly.
Slowly, he reached for the door, bursting through it at the last moment, startling the bird, allowing him to ‘escape’. (What his co-workers saw was him running for the exit stairs on the twenty-first floor, raving like a lunatic and flailing his arms as though being tickled by a hundred feathers.)
His boss was notified, and he was sent for evaluation when they found him, two days later in the park, hiding under a bridge.
” It was just staring, Doc. I was so scared. I keep seeing it everywhere I look now!”
The doctor looked up, turning his head to get a better look at him.
He looked up. His eyes grew to bulging. He screamed.
The doctor blinked his one orange eye slowly.