A. L. Buehrer What I Write and Why

Saturday, August 8, 2015


There was a worrisome fluttering and clanging and then silence. Presently, the seabird’s head appeared at the other end of the shelves. Without a thought, Dahskay sneaked up on it and caught it before it could fully emerge. She pulled it out gently despite its clawed feet clinging to unseen anchors behind the shelves. She tucked in the enormous wings and held it firmly against her side.

  “You got it!” whispered Cahathel in amazement, rushing to open the door.

  She glanced nervously down at the bird’s long, ponderously hooked bill as she carried it to the exit.  It didn’t threaten her with it. It just blinked and gazed steadily ahead.

  Just outside the door, she crouched down and let go of it. It fussily rearranged its wings and turned walking into the wind a couple of steps. Before it took off, it looked back at Dahskay through clear gray eyes.

  As the enormous spread of wings climbed away into the stormy sky, Zaarrveck muttered, “Strange, most of them have dark eyes.”

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