"Here pretty bird."

Joan smiled as she watched her daughter, Angelica, climb up on a park bench. The bird sat perched on a low branch a foot or two out of reach.

"I won't hurt you, Mister Bird." Angelica climbed up onto the back of the bench. Joan wasn't worried; even at four years of age, she had a wonderful sense of balance.

"Mommy, what kind of bird is this? It's not even scared of me."

"I don't know, Sweetheart. It doesn't look like you can reach it. Maybe we can go to the other side of the park and feed the ducks."

"I wanna pet this one." She reached up and lost her balance, but caught herself before she came tumbling to the ground. "See, Mommy, I'm okay."

Joan walked over to Angelica with every intention of forcing her daughter to leave the bird alone. Once she was close, however, she couldn't help but want to touch it herself.

"Lift me, mommy. Lift me so I can pet the pretty bird."

"Yes." Joan felt herself moving in a mechanical motion. Angelica mustn't scare the bird away. No, she mustn't. Joan had to touch it, too.

"Nice bird," Angelica said as Joan boosted her up. "I just want to pet you."

The bird turned towards them. It was the first movement Joan had seen the bird make. Its eyes lit up to a bright crimson, and its beak bent into a sinister smile. The spell over Joan snapped, and it was all she could do not drop her daughter. Angelica took the bird's movements in stride. She was still reaching for it as Joan lowered her to the ground.

The bird hissed and spread its wings. Angelica finally realized something was wrong and let out a piercing scream. The bird shot off the branch straight into her mouth. A big lump formed in Angelica's throat as the bird pushed its way down into her body. Joan could do nothing but watch her poor baby endure this. Angelica's face went from pale, to blue, to bright purple, but not for long. The bird clawed its way out of her throat, and down into her chest. Her face went back to its normal color before fading to a light pale. With air rushing through her windpipes, Angelica let out a cry which hurt Joan's ears. She saw movement under Angelica's shirt. She tore it off and saw the bird thrashing about inside her baby girl's stomach.

She stopped crying for a second before sitting bolt upright and unleashing her loudest screech yet. Bright red blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. It flowed thicker and thicker, and then streamed out her nose. Angelica began to choke on the copious amount of blood and her screams faded into a sickly gurgling sound.

Angelica stopped moving and fell flat on her back. Her head hit the pavement with a thud, and blood flew up in a cloud. By now, the churning in her stomach also stopped. Joan could do nothing but cry.

Her baby, her precious baby.

Her stomach moved again, this time in an up and down motion. Blood gushed through her mouth and nose as if it were being pumped out. A ripping sound burst through the air, and Angelica's stomach tore open. The bird pushed through and shook blood and entrails off its head. It looked up at Joan, and she somehow knew this was her only chance to leave. If she didn't, she would suffer the same fate.

Joan glanced up and saw a huge flock of birds descending. They looked like a swarm of locust. She gasped for air, unable to even scream, but managed to run away.

Twenty minutes later, she dragged a policeman back to the scene. He didn't believe a bit of her story, but she didn't care. She knew what she saw, and she'd prove it to him.

"It's here, it's here, it's here," she shouted as they came into sight of Angelica’s grizzly demise. Both she and the policeman looked around, but neither could find a trace of Angelica's body. They didn't even see so much as a drop of blood. Joan snapped her head skyward to catch a glimpse of any stragglers among the birds. Again, no luck.

The policeman's hand dropped to her shoulder. "Don't worry, ma'am. Help will be here shortly."

Joan didn't know what kind of help he could provide. Not only had Angelica, her sweet little angel, been brutally killed, but now her remains were nowhere to be found. This was a policeman, though. He must know what kind of help to bring.

The nice policeman led her over to the parking lot and sat her down on the curb. She wanted to look for her precious daughter, but there was no use. The swarm of birds had gobbled every bit of her sweet little girl up. They'd even pecked the sidewalk clean of blood.

The policeman said something that Joan didn't catch. At that moment, an ambulance pulled up in front of her. Two men hopped out and slung a jacket around her. They shoved her arms into the sleeves and wrapped them tight around her. When they buckled it up, she couldn't move her arms at all. The policeman told the ambulance men about a homeless woman who wandered around the park talking to herself. But why? Did this woman know about the birds? Could she help stop these monsters?

Joan wanted to ask, but one of the ambulance men cut her off.

"We're going to take you somewhere safe," he said as they led her to
the back of the ambulance. "You'll be okay."

"Angelica. My Angelica."

"The Bird"
Copyright: © 2009 Eric J. Krause
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Eric J. Krause pens stories from Orange County, California, just minutes away from Disneyland. He's been published in Trail of Indiscretion and online in The Absent Willow Review, Allegory, and Nocturnal Ooze, just to name a few. You can visit his blog on writing at http://ejkwritingspot.blogspot.com. He lives with his wife, Amber, their dog, Spike.

Amanda didn't know why she left at that moment, just before Scream Time. She'd looked forward all week to being allowed to scream her lungs out in the library. So why had she chosen this moment head down the deserted stairwell?

Scream Time had been a big tradition through the 60s and 70s at Orange County University. For two predetermined minutes during finals week, everyone on campus dropped everything and screamed. It was a great way to release pent-up energy and boost campus morale during the stressful testing period.

Amanda didn't know why it stopped in the mid-70s. Since this year's reintroduction, stories flew fast and furious. She'd heard everything from apathy to murder. The true answer lay somewhere in the middle, she guessed. Likely closer to the mundane. A string of murders would still be in the lore of OCU.

At the second floor landing, she checked her watch. Less than a minute to go. If she opened the door, she'd be among fellow students. But something wouldn't let her leave. A nagging in her mind that guided her down the stairs.

Halfway to the ground floor, she hit a pocket of freezing cold air. She paused and looked up, but instead of finding any air-conditioning vents, everything went blurry. She sat down to avoid tumbling to the bottom. In seconds, her vision cleared up, and she discovered she wasn't alone.

A young girl, probably no more than 18, skipped down the steps. She had on tight bellbottom jeans, a plaid polyester shirt, and an avocado headband. Amanda started to say something, but she couldn't get the words out. Amanda could see right through her.

As the girl glided past like a wisp of smoke, Amanda could smell her perfume. The semi-transparent girl paid her no mind.

Amanda stood up and prepared to bolt when she saw a man down in the shadows. She couldn't see much detail, but he threw off a menacing vibe. "Hey, watch out!" she yelled, but the 70s girl paid no attention. The guy lunged like a striking cobra.

The girl screamed. Amanda screamed. The entire school screamed.

Amanda started down the stairs, realized that was stupid, and turned to rush back up to the second floor. She screamed, again unheard because of Scream Time. Another man, this one solid, stood above her on the second floor landing. He wore baggy clothes and a ski mask. The door at the bottom of the stairwell banged open and another man, dressed like the one above, stepped in. The two ghosts--they had to be ghosts, she reasoned--struggled on, paying no attention to the three around them.

The man on the second floor landing came at her, taking the steps two or three at a time. She couldn't bring herself to move, and the guy kicked her in the chest. She fell backwards down the stairs, bouncing awkwardly. Her bones shattered as she tumbled past the girl, who now lay sprawled across the bottom few steps with white, ghostly blood dripping down her face.

Before she blacked out--died, she was going to die--she heard two things. The first was from one of the real men. "The sex is best right after they die." The second came from the girl ghost. "I'm glad I led you hear. We can be best friends forever."

Amanda's head happened to be pointed at the girl, and she was looking right back at Amanda, a big smile on her lips. Amanda closed her eyes and knew no more.

All across campus, the screams continued.

"Scream Time"
Copyright: © 2009 Eric J. Krause

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Eric J. Krause pens stories from Orange County, California, just minutes away from Disneyland. He has a number of stories published online. When he is not hard at work writing, he substitute teaches in elementary and middle schools. He lives with his wife, Amber, and their dog, Spike. You can visit his blog on writing at http://ejkwritingspot.blogspot.com.