Sometimes when I read a story or a poem, images just pop up into my head and fill me with the wish to fix them on paper or a canvas.
This is what happened when I read this truly magnificent and original short story “Birds of a Feather” by my dear friend Mary Cathleen Clark.
Some stories stay with you, no matter how much time goes by, and this definitely is one of them! Its dark beauty lured me into it from the first sentence, it grabbed me and didn´t let go.
For me, Mary Cathleen Clark is an exceptional writer who unflinchingly lays open the deepest depths of human hearts and characters.
I know that many bloggers shrink back from reading posts that exceed a certain number of words, but let me assure you, that you won´t regret reading this piece from start to finish! (I´m not even sure, if it´s possible not to read on when you´ve crossed over the first sentences. 😉 )
So, this one is for you, my friend…
“Birds of a Feather” is the first story of mine published that I made money on–a whopping $10.00. It was published in Mindflights, an online magazine of speculative fiction (now defunct), under a different pen name than I use here. I think of all the short stories I have written, it remains my favorite.
My little sister was born with wings, or at least the beginnings of such. Little nubs on her sharp shoulder blades. When they reached any size, when from time to time tufts of white feathers dared blossomed out, Ma cut them off. I held Morphia down while she clipped them off with the cow dehorners. Morphia cried and carried on, but Ma said it didn’t hurt none, no more than snipping off a fingernail did, and if she didn’t cut them off, Morphia would fly away like Pa had.
Fact was, Ma had lost Pa…
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