Copyright © 2018 Diana Garcia. All Rights Reserved.
An Anthropomorphic Short Story.
Chico Barbosa sat high on the pine tree looking down at the houses. He was mentally trying to communicate with his humans, Mama and Papa Barbosa.
The white landscape blanketed the golf course and surrounding rooftops so that it confused him. Everything looked the same. It was blinding in the morning light. Last night he had admitted to himself that he was lost. He was hoping Moms and Pops would walk down one of these streets calling his name so that he could fly down and land on Pop’s shoulder or Mom’s head, his favorite perches.
The wind blew like shards of glass, bending trees, and whistled through the branches. Then, the early morning fog had disoriented him even more so he remained perched in the relative security of the thick pine tree. The cold snap the night…
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