Channie Greenberg
Inspiration piece

Baby Bird
By Melisa Peterson Lewis
Response

Poppy’s hands cupped the naked baby bird as it rolled, unable to brace itself in her shifting grip. Her sisters became anxious with each wobble.

“Poppy! Don’t squeeze it.” Stella imagined Poppy’s fingers were squeezing the new treasure.

The baby bird had fallen from a nest nearby. They carried on about the best way to proceed, each hollering louder than the next. Poppy, the eldest at ten years old, was followed by her two younger sisters, Stella and Violet. Summer days left the three dirty girls covered in cuts, bruises, and poison ivy. More often than not, they could be found wielding a plastic bag filled with old cans or screws from their treasure hunts. This day was unique. They had a live specimen that surely loved them as much as they adored it.

Their hands fluttered about the tiny animal. Each girl was sure she knew the best way to care for the defenseless baby. Violet insisted they take the bird to their mom, Vanessa, who was resting on a lounge chair catching a tan. Poppy disagreed with Violet and reasoned they should keep it in the woods. She knew her mom would force them to leave the bird where they found it, but that would mean it would suffer alone in the dark.

Stella, sandwiched between her sisters, understood the natural order of the forest. The baby bird was pushed from the nest for a reason. It needed to be sacrificed to appease the balance in which mother nature intended.

“Poppy. The bird must be sick, that’s why it’s not in the nest. We need to leave it alone.” Stella reached over to take the bird from Poppy, who twisted away using her shoulder as a barricade.

Disputes could never be settled with subtle voices, and the wave of noise caught their mother’s attention. Begrudgingly, she peeled herself from the lounge chair to see what the fuss was about.

“Girls? What do you have there?” Coming from behind, she saw Poppy concealing something close to her chest, while Violet cried.

“Mom! Poppy found a baby bird and won’t let me hold it!” Violet’s tears streaked her face.

Vanessa saw the naked thing tucked in Poppy’s hand, and without thinking, reached over and shook her daughter’s wrist, causing the bird to tumble loose. It landed with a gentle crinkle of the leaves and rolled onto its back.

“It probably has mites!” Before Vanessa could regret what she had done, Poppy snapped to attention.

“Mom! You’re going to kill it!” Poppy reached down, but Vanessa was quicker and grabbed her arm, jerking her upright.

“This bird belongs to the forest sweetheart. It’s a wild animal. Come on, girls. Everyone out of the woods.” She held out her arms, trying to herd them away.

“But Mama! It will die out here!” Violet exploded from the inside out.

Stella turned red and snorted back a tear. Abandoning the tiny bird seemed harsh, even if she believed it was the right thing to do.

“Girls. I’m sorry. The bird isn’t in the nest for a reason. Look, it’s hardly moving. It’s going to die, no matter what.” Vanessa’s words didn’t match her desire to help the little thing, but she knew how difficult it was to keep a baby bird alive once it’s been tossed from the nest.

Poppy crossed her arms and stomped her foot. “Mom! This bird deserves a chance. There is no harm in keeping him in a box on the porch.”

Vanessa looked at her three girls and wondered how they’d grown so fast. Their determination warmed her over, and she gave them a nod of approval. Squeals of delight erupted, and Poppy gathered up the bird.

Vanessa spoke loudly so the girls would listen. “Rules! The bird stays on the porch. He is your responsibility. No arguing when it’s time for anything that will pull you away from him.”

They agreed to her terms with smiles and clapping.

Stella ran into the house and brought out a shoebox stuffed with tissues. The girls built a nest and found a shady spot on the porch. Buddy, the old and nearly deaf family dog, waddled over. He sniffed the bird and walked away with little interest.

“Well, at least we know Buddy won’t bother the bird.” They all laughed.

“Girls, let’s leave the bird to settle in.” The request was met with whining. “Come on, march inside. You remember the rules?”

Rules? As soon as she okayed the bird coming home, everything else drowned in their enthusiasm.

Vanessa reminded them, “Wash your hands. You can recheck the bird after lunch.”

“Wait!” Poppy protested. “We didn’t name him yet.”

Vanessa forced a smile, knowing once the girls named the animal, it was officially a pet. Even if it entered the house for five minutes, it was now bound to the family.

“Jellybean!” Stella shouted.

Their family tradition was to name new pets after food. Before Jellybean, there was Pepperoni the turtle, Coco the bunny, and Taffy the lizard, to name a few. Each animal met its end within 24 hours.

“And so it will be. Jellybean. Okay, girls, let’s move.”

The girls ate their sandwiches, each thinking about their plans for Jellybean’s future. Lunch was interrupted by noise from outside. Vanessa cocked her head and raised a finger to tell the girls to hush. They stopped chewing and gave their attention. It sounded as if the hose was being turned on and off, or no, it was a car trying to start, or no—she wasn’t sure what it was.

Poppy jumped up from her seat and ran to the door. “Mom! Buddy is choking!”

“Oh, no!” Everyone ran to witness Buddy hunched forward and saliva dripping from his flapping lips. He heaved, but nothing came out. The girls cried, wondering what was wrong. Vanessa went outside and banged on his back as if he were a choking toddler. The dog moved away and found a spot in the yard he circled several times before lying down.

“Girls. Go inside. Everything will be okay.” She rubbed her hands on her bare thighs and got closer to the dog.

“Hey, Buddy. You okay?” She rubbed his back, and the tip of the dog’s tail gave a wiggle. She took that as a good sign until he tried to stand and couldn’t. The dog’s rib cage moved forward involuntarily. Wet sloshes and gurgling came from his belly.  He coughed, and when he did it again, he paused mid-gag. He staggered, legs buckling.

Vanessa dropped to her knees in front of the dog. She was of no help on the outside, so she pried open Buddy’s mouth and saw something blocking his airway. It looked like yesterday’s trash surrounded by thick drool. Furious the dog had been in the garbage again and fueled with fear, she reached her hand into his throat and grabbed ahold of the blockage. It was wet, hot, and knobby. Bracing one hand on the dog’s forehead she pulled herself free, the dog let out a yak, slipping the contents of his stomach onto her legs. She looked away, knowing the image of her lower half would make her throw up right along with Buddy.

The dog stood and shook himself off before walking away as if nothing happened. Her hand was clenched around the object that almost killed Buddy. Sticking out from between her thumb and index finger were the talons of a small bird.

She had to act fast. Checking behind her for the girls, she stood and walked towards her neighbor’s yard where she tossed the contents in her hand over the fence, flicking her hand again to remove more drool.

The skin on her thighs started to tighten from Buddy’s barf drying in the sun. She went to the hose and washed herself off. The cold water hurt, but it didn’t mask the pain she felt knowing she would have to tell her children Jellybean was gone.

Dripping and chilled, she turned to her front door to find her daughters embracing each other. They had witnessed the entire event. Vanessa shook her head, wishing she could erase it or come up with a quick and thoughtful explanation.

Poppy’s hand rested firmly on Violet’s shoulder, and with tight lips, she said, “Mom, that dang bird tried to kill Buddy!”

Vanessa eyed her daughters, who stood fearlessly. She thought about how quickly her children turned from saviors, unwilling to leave a flightless orphaned bird unattended, to seeing the bird as a predator who tried to take out the family dog.

Stella picked up the shoe box that the bird had occupied for less than 20 minutes and held it to her chest. Her lips trembled. “Mom, what will we bury since you threw the bird over the fence?”

“The box, baby. We’ll bury Jellybean’s box.”

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Channie Greenberg
Response

Café Lizard
By Melisa Peterson Lewis
Inspiration piece

It was a hot summer. Rust-colored rocks and dirt met dark green cactuses and brush. Sal’s staff enjoyed the lull in customers and prepared for dinner

“Cheryl, get over here and look at this!” Beth waved the fellow waitress over and pulled a scarf from her head, letting curly white hair spring free.

“What is it? I got table three throwing a fit over their corn chowder.” Cheryl stepped with an attitude.

Beth’s age-spotted hand pointed to a white envelope tucked under a ketchup bottle. The seal faced upward.

Cheryl brushed red hair from her pimpled forehead. “It’s a letter? So, what?”

“Not just any letter. Haven’t you heard the curse of Café Lizard?” Beth couldn’t look away.

Leonard came to clear the table and froze in his tracks. His gaze fixed upon the envelope. He’d been the cook there for some time, helping to clear the tables when things were slow.

The empty tub he carried slipped from his hands and bounced on the floor. “Oh, my Jesus. Is that what I think it is?”

Beth rose from the bench and stood next to him. “I haven’t turned it over yet, but maybe ya ought to call Sal.”

“Beth, we gotta be sure first.”

Cheryl clucked her tongue. “Can someone tell me what in the world is going on?”

They both hushed her.

“Fine! Well, I’m going back to table three. Thank you very much.”

As Cheryl stomped off, Beth reached out a shaky hand and grabbed the envelope.

Leonard encouraged her. “Go on. It’s not gonna bite ya.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Taking in a deep breath, she flipped it over and gasped at the writing on the front. It was the same as before; she knew without even reading it.

Leonard stepped away. “I’ll call Sal.”

Beth slipped the letter in her apron and looked around the café trying to remember who was just at this table. It was like that last time too. No one remembered who sat there. Some say it was the devil himself.

She wanted so badly to get rid of it. It’s spot against her hip feeling warm and electric. Though she also knew the letter would choose the right person. Their fate already sealed. It wouldn’t be her, and she would be sure of that.

Leonard met back up with her. “Sal said to lock it in his office.”

She nodded and did as she was told.

Cheryl was packing to go home for the day when she elbowed Beth in the side. “So? What gives? Why is everyone so jumpy?”

“Girl, are you too young to remember? I guess you are. Heavens, I can’t even talk about it without my heart racing.” Beth put her hand on her chest and walked away.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and headed through the kitchen where Leonard grew quiet when she appeared.

“Ya want to tell me what’s going on? I’m getting creeped out.” Cheryl pursed her lips and waited for an answer.

Leonard, waved for her to come closer. Then in a whisper, he started, “About ten years ago, this place burnt down. You remember that?”

“Kinda. I was just a kid.”

“Well, I started to work here when they reopened. When I did, Beth told me about the curse.”

Cheryl snickered, then clapped her hands and smiled. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

“Sal took over for his dad about twenty years ago. It was sudden because he died of a heart attack, and Sal had to step in. He was about your age when that happened. He never finished school. Started to work instead.”

“Are you going somewhere with this because my shift is over?”

“Sal was thrown into the deep end. The town got it, gave him a break while he figured it all out, but he ran the business into the ground. Story goes he was gonna close the place down. The day he met the bank, he prayed for a way to save it. That same night Sal was waiting tables…”

“Wait. Sal waited tables?”

“Yeah, he couldn’t afford a staff anymore, so it was just him and Harry, the old cook. He was clearing tables when he found the envelope. It said something about granting a favor. Sal put it in his pocket and walked into the kitchen to catch Harry crying. Apparently, Harry knew the café was closing and really needed the job to feed his family.”

“That’s sad.”

“Sal went into his office and thought about the money he needed to turn the place around. So he opened the envelope hoping there’d be a big check inside or something, but it was empty.”

“Empty?”

“Yeah, but once he opened it he was due a favor.”

“From who?” Cheryl cocked her head suspiciously.

“No one knows. Later Sal closed up and headed home. He got a call at midnight saying the restaurant was on fire. When he got there, he learned Harry was bringing his family in after hours to feed them. There was a gas leak, and the entire family died.”

“Oh, my God!”

“There was an investigation, but the insurance company paid up, and Sal built a new Café Lizard.”

She couldn’t help herself, and a laugh escaped her lips. “That’s the craziest story I have ever heard!”

“It’s real. The devil tricked Sal, and if you go near that envelope, he’ll get you too.”

“Thanks for the warning.” She batted her hand at him.

Beth’s voice rose from inside. “Cheryl? Can you do a double? Megan called in sick.”

The extra money would be helpful, so Cheryl agreed. Every penny helped her save for a move to somewhere lush and tropical. She had grown tired of dirt and dust and dreamt of places like Miami.

The staff stayed quiet all evening, only interacting as needed. Cheryl rather enjoyed the silence. It was as if she ran the place herself, and her tips were double the usual.

At closing time, she counted the money in the register while the others rolled silverware, and took out the trash. She unlocked the office with Beth’s key and left the cash in the safe. When she turned around, she noticed the letter on the desk.

Written on the front: Here is the favor you need. Open this letter, and it’s yours. However, there might be someone who deserves this more than you. If so, give it away.

“Well, that’s odd,” she mumbled. Then she considered her senior year had passed, and she had no plans. She thought it was ridiculous to think there would be something inside that would allow her to get away. But what if?

Sure, Beth’s arthritis was flaring up, and Leonard couldn’t read above a third-grade level. But there won’t be anything in an envelope to help them, she figured. So she ripped it open only to find nothing inside.

“Of course,” she groaned. Then packed her things and put the envelope in the trash before going home.

The next morning Sal noticed a light blinked on the café’s answering machine. He hit play and sat back in his chair.

“Hi, Sal. This is Cheryl. Sorry to do this to you but I won’t be coming back to work. My mom’s new boyfriend is moving us to Florida tomorrow, and I have to pack. Bye, now.”

Sal shook his head. When he tossed his coffee cup into the trash the envelope caught his eye. He reached in and held up the two pieces.

“Who opened this?” He ran out to the kitchen.

“Not me, boss!” Leonard said, his hands up in defense. Everyone else shook their heads.

“You don’t understand! The curse of Café Lizard is real! It got my old man and me. The last thing Pop said to me that day was, ‘I wish I didn’t have to work anymore.’ He got the envelope that afternoon and died that night. I need to know who opened it?”

Sal shook with furry. No one admitted to opening the letter which drew Sal to conclude it was Cheryl. He tried to get through to her, but her voicemail box was full. He worried about the young woman for weeks, but no one reached her.

Business continued at Café Lizard. Locals buzzed about the waitress that disappeared, everyone swearing the curse struck again. Sal was sure business would grind to a halt, but it seemed a good story brought in more people. So much so that money flowed in better than ever. Leonard signed up for GED classes, and Beth afforded better medication for her arthritis.

Beth tried to convince Sal it was nothing.

He responded, “That’s how the curse works. It does the greedy person in and favors everyone else. I have dreams of Cheryl laying in the desert, a lizard scurrying past her red hair. Suitcases packed for Florida with nothing inside.”

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.