For my second story, I went through some of my Sci-Fi ideas. I then remembered the time it would take to research the details. I was then struck by an opening for the empty bird-cage I mentioned earlier. From a simple thought of "Routine" to explain the empty bird-cage, this story was born. I hope you enjoy it!
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Steve woke up at six every morning. He had a routine, and he followed it religiously. He didn't think about it, not anymore. If he did think about it, he might have trouble remembering his life before the routine took over. He needed his routine, it gave him an excuse to forget about the past, all the things that had happened in the before time. That was why he didn't think about it, and he no longer knew anything from that time in his life. He couldn't remember how long he had been following this routine. He knew it was more than three years, because he had been promoted three years ago. He should have been happy with the promotion, but he wasn't. Why did he need more money? He bought the same items from the store every week, put the same amount of gas in his car, paid the same bills. His bank account had the exact same balance. He got paid with traditional paper checks, and would go into the bank to deposit the exact same amount each payday. The remaining money he would get in cash, and toss it into a large water bottle at home, where it would be hidden from view, one of the only blemishes on his perfectly scheduled routine. He had needed to make some other minor adjustments over the years, as gas prices fluctuated, bills went up, but he made up for it all at once by overpaying for everything. He still came home with a wad of bills each week that he could toss into the water bottle. Money wasn't a concern, as long as everything stayed the same, he knew he wouldn't have to worry about running out of it.
Today was going to be different. He already knew that it was going to be a bad day. He had a dream during the night. He had a dream where he was flying. That was unusual for him, he never remembered his dreams upon waking up. He was having a bad day before he even woke up. Things did not look good.
Steve looked at the clock beside the bed. The numbers stared back at him. 6:03 they said. An insult. Mocking him with their defiance. He had overslept, and now the twin zeros had been replaced by this vulgar abomination.
“I'm late” Steve thought to himself.
It wasn't a panicked or worried thought, he was just stating the fact to himself. A silent confirmation that the clock was correct.
“I'm going to be late for work.” He thought to himself as he prepared for his seven minute shower. He had his entire life planned, down to the minute. He couldn't take a five minute shower, that just wasn't enough time. He would eat breakfast in the car as usual, three carefully prepared breakfast wraps made the night before, and a large mug of coffee, made at precisely 6:18. He had the same breakfast every day, and the coffee maker was on a timer. All he had to do when he got to the kitchen was grab the brown paper bag from the fridge. The bag contained his wraps, to be consumed in the car while driving to work, and an apple to be placed on his desk until lunch. The coffee maker was a single cup model, and he only needed to remove his mug and snap on the lid. He only drank black coffee now. In the before time he would get double-double, but things had become so much easier when he stopped abusing his morning friend with cream and sugar.
“My coffee will be cold” Steve thought to himself as he dried off after his shower. “I don't like cold coffee.”
Steve got dressed, picking out a pair of pants, shirt, tie, socks and shoes. His wardrobe didn't require any thought, it was almost entirely the same. He left some things to random chance, like the color of small stripes on his shirt, or the type of socks. It was not anything his co-workers would have noticed, the subtle differences were only apparent to his discerning eye. Today he chose the white shirt with thin navy lines. He was a bit disappointed by the choice, it had felt like a day for dark blue stripes, perhaps royal blue, even denim blue would have been acceptable. Certainly not navy. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn this shirt. It felt like yesterday, but it could have been a year ago. It was hard to remember specific days when everything was the same. He thought he remembered putting that shirt in the back of the closet, but again, he didn't know when that had happened.
Steve reluctantly donned the shirt along with the rest of his clothing. Part of his routine was that he would not put back an item of clothing after removing it from the closet or dresser. He was thankful that he ended up with was the comfortable pair of black cotton socks today. The thought of having picked the black silk socks, with navy stripes was almost too much for him. Like every other day, by the time he had finished dressing, he left the room feeling confident with his overall appearance.
Steve paused on his way to the kitchen, stopping in front of an empty bird cage. It was the traditional bell shape, but instead of yellow, the bars were a shiny stainless steel. The cage wasn't exactly empty, but it was lacking life. There was newspaper lining the bottom of the cage, and a few stray feathers gently laying on top of the scraps. Steve had stopped to get the food and water, so he could bring them to the kitchen and replace them with fresh items.
“Monday.” Steve thought to himself. “I need to change the paper, and replace the feathers tonight.”
The smell of coffee caught his attention, and with a frustrated sigh he continued towards the kitchen, carrying the additional items from the cage.
Three minutes later he was getting into his car, with his paper bag, and a cup of slightly colder coffee than he usually had.
Despite being three minutes late for work, Steve had a good day. It was a very uneventful day, which always counted as a good day for him. He got home on time, and after washing his mug he prepared for the weekly chore, Monday was the bird cage and bathroom. He finished the bathroom without incident, exactly on time.
Steve was about to start on the cage, when he noticed that the cage door was open. It was never open. He hadn't opened the door since the before time. He always removed the bottom of the cage to clean it, the food and water could be replaced without opening the cage. Steve was suddenly scared.
“Hello!” Steve called out. He never understood why people called out when they suspected an intruder. The smart thing would be staying silent, but he fell victim to the gut reaction, calling out again. “Is anybody there?”
When Steve didn't hear anything, he carefully walked over to the door. He checked the locks on the front, and side door. Both of them were working properly, no scratch marks around the lock or edges. He was sure that none of the windows were open.
He was satisfied that the house was secure, but still felt uneasy. The cage door could not have opened itself. He thought about calling the police, but went through the conversation in his mind. Either they would think he was crazy when he called, or they would show up and perform a thorough yet unproductive search of the house before they labeled him insane. Nothing was broken, or missing so he decided against it.
Trying to overcome his terror, Steve approached the cage. The first thing he noticed was that the white feathers usually laying on the bottom of the cage had been replaced with smaller, green feathers. As he got closer he also noticed the the crisp black and white strips of newspaper were gone. A single page of yellowed newspaper was carefully folded up into a neat square under the feathers.
Steve now knew that somebody had been in his house. He was positive that he was alone now, but the hairs on his arms refused to listen to reason. He felt the air currents moving past the back of his neck, but refused to give into his fear. He was not going to turn around and look. Instead, he reached into the open cage and removed the newspaper page. There was a large picture on the front, and as Steve started unfolding it, he slowly started to recognize the picture.
“No...” He softly whispered, not wanting to believe it. It was too late, the memories started flooding back.
“Three car collision claims the lives of eight victims” The headline screamed at Steve. He was seeing the headline the day it appeared in the paper, more than ten years ago. That was how he found out about his wife, and son. A newspaper.
Steve's son had been accepted to college. Steve was driving the moving truck, while his wife and son took the car. Steve had left early, and was going to spend the night in a hotel. They were supposed to meet up the next day. That didn't happen. Steve had checked out of the hotel first thing in the morning, and saw the headline on a newspaper sitting on the desk. He had picked up the paper, and after reading a few lines, collapsed into one of the chairs in the lobby. Memories were flooding back, the police, the questions and the funeral. He remembered everything, including the reasons he wanted to forget. There was so much pain, he couldn't deal with it. Routine was the only way he could escape the pain. The only way he would be safe.
He remembered the resident of the cage, too. A talkative green and yellow budgerigar. His son, Sam, was the only one of them that called their parakeet a budgerigar. Sam thought it sounded more exotic. Sam was taking the bird to school with him, it had been in the car and didn't survive the accident either.
Steve had lost his entire family overnight, without the privacy to mourn when he found out. He had turned his back to the world, sold their house and moved across the country. He had an open house for friends and family to take items as reminders, and mementos. He had sold everything that wasn't taken, other than the bird cage. It was one of the few things that reminded him of both his wife and son. Steve didn't tell anybody where he was moving, and legally changed his name the day before leaving. He didn't want any reminders of his past life.
Steve was jerked back into the present by a knock at the door. It was a familiar knock, one of the memories from his past that he had tried to bury. Hearing that knock, everything made sense. The dream, the items in the bird cage, it all fit.
Steve took a deep cleansing breath. All his routines were broken now, the before time was now his own past. He couldn't think about it as a vague point in time, it was a time of joy, love, and memories. Steve opened the door and greeted the friend on the other side. It had taken years, but Steve was now ready to face the first day of the rest of his life.
The end...
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