Flying monsters

I laid uncomfortably in my stifling bed, tossing and turning in the midnight darkness, I was listening to the obnoxious noise of parakeets chirping of doing whatever on the immense ash tree standing in my garden, towering like a giant over my house.

The parakeets had moved in recently, and at work everyone was talking about them causing a ruckus through the packed streets of central London, who knew how mischievous some little yellow-and-green birds could be. I was like a fried potato under my cover, I could either listen to parakeets producing tedious sounds or close the window and set ablaze; I chose the first option.

I could’ve taken the duvet off me but I have a strange phobia of being exposed in the black. After half an hour of sweating and muttering swear words I found myself analysing the parakeets’ noises; after all I was a biology teacher. I was suddenly enveloped in a choir of hideously singing minute flying monsters on the top of that tree, the horrific chorus echoed around the agitated neighbourhood, probably all feeling even worse than me at this point.

Then, the chirping crescendo’d and I was snapped back to reality. The chirping sounded like screaming and then it actually turned into proper screaming, then the parakeet noises finally faded away into the night. Startled, I rose from bed to the window and looked through, there was something big at the top of my tree, I peered closer and saw that it was a grinning man with messy, browny-grey hair and a weird bird costume. I also took serious note of his sharp metal claws and masses of dead corpses below.

I was too focused on the details to notice he was looking straight into my eyes, straight like an innocent pigeon- but something told me this thing wasn’t innocent. He suddenly leaped down from the summit of the tree and started soaring to my window, my heart fell out of my body and I raced to grab my phone. I don’t know what that creep wants but I wasn’t sticking around to see it.

I called my friend Julian who lives a few blocks away and I rushed down the stairs to put on shoes and a coat, just to hear the unconvincing, terrifying sound of glass breaking upstairs- along with a maniac squawking.

I disconnected Julian and now frantically dialled 9-9-9 as I sprinted to the kitchen to look for a hiding spot, I came across the most disgusting but amazing idea ever- I ran to the bin and slammed myself into it like a squashed tomato.

He heard the slam and swiftly stomped downstairs like a psycho, calling “birdie wants you!” He strolled into the kitchen then stopped right by the bin. I winced as I heard the operator from the other side of the phone. I panicked and blacked out, hearing a truly terrifying laugh.

I woke up and looked at the faint light emerging behind the curtains. The parakeets were still here. They chirped the whole way through my nightmare and even after. I get up and walk to the window, to find a crack and a sticky note saying ‘birdie wants you, let’s meet again.’

I don’t know if this was a prank but I have recently moved to Canada. I still can’t erase that monster’s horrifying face from my brain files, but last night I saw the same message carved into the wall; I guess we will have to meet again.