Confession To A Pigeon

Hi, everyone! I entered this piece in Kingdom Pen's March short story contest! I'd entered their contests before and have learned a lot from doing them. I was so excited when mine was their choice for the March winner! Check out the link to their site here, where you can sign up for their newsletter where these contests happen every month (as well as writing articles and videos and a bunch of other cool stuff): https://kingdompen.org/. Now, without further ado, Confession to a Pigeon!

P.S. Here's the picture prompt I had to write from for this month's contest!

You know, sometimes I see things that shouldn’t belong here.

I know, I know, I’m not supposed to tell people. But since you’re a pigeon, I’ll tell you.

It’s always on this stretch of sidewalk—right here, from my house to the end of the cul de sac and all the way back. Especially right next to that old gray building, where the sidewalk gets bumpy.

I play out here a lot, you know. Sometimes I just walk and collect treasures. Sometimes I find a stick—they make great swords, did you know that? Sometimes I ride my bike.

And sometimes, the breeze gets big at the weirdest times, where there wasn’t any breeze before. Red leaves scamper across the street, when it’s not even fall. And those leaves don’t like the ones crunched in the street by cars. They look like fire.

But when I ride my bike, my stick at my side, I see things. As pigeons like you scatter into the sky—I promise, I didn’t mean to hurt any of your noble ranks. But the occasional scare does keep you lively. Sorry if you ever lost a feather because of me.

Where was I? Oh, right.

I see other creatures.

Dragons, unicorns, griffins, and pegasuses. Pegasuses . . . pegasi . . . pega . . .

Some monsters, too.

Past my shadow on the brick wall, I see flashes of lightning. Past the rustle of litter, I hear battle cries and cheers. And they call my name.

Sometimes I see angry men. Sometimes I see tears. Sometimes I hear shouts.

Sometimes I sit on my porch steps all by myself.

But when I’m on my bike, with my stick and an army of most honorable pigeons, I feel different. Kind of like a knight, I guess. I always defeat those monsters, you know. I watch the angry men go away.

And I hear the cheers.

There. At least now someone knows. Even if you are a pigeon.