Thanks to dear Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Ted for the photo.
We did our usual walk today, me and ma, our favourite route. A calm space to mull over daily life. Today was different.‘Hey ma, who or what is this ?’‘A heap of metal I’d say, a defunct drone ?.
‘No no, I think it’s a baby bird, it seems so helpless, or injured?’
‘Leave it Cissy, we should walk away. If it is a weird baby bird, its mother will abandon it if we touch it’.
‘Where is it’s mother ? I can’t walk away, its eyes are sad.’
‘What’s the deafening noise above us ?’
‘A huge drone , run for it ma.’