Virtues of Accomidation

[McMurphy]

Below is the opening of a short story I am currently editing. I am interested to hear what elements both favorable and deviant I should be keeping my eye out for as I continue the proofreading process. Thank you in advance for constructive criticism.


She disrobed and stepped into the tub of hot water. Sitting in the tub with her body hidden by bubbles, she admired the jaded streams of cracks that broke apart the paint on the wall. She waited for him with anticipation.

******

"'Gooood bird! Gooood bird! You have got so use to this,' I told my pet cockatiel as he made a lazy effort of escaping from the towel I had wrapped around him. He stretched his neck and made a shrieking noise as he opened and closed his beak. It made my ears want to bleed.

I held the scissors used to clip his wings in my left hand, which was hovering over Cory's head. The scissors were quite dull. The tips of both blades had been broken off and the blades themselves were sprinkled with spots of rust, reminding me of the liver spots on old people's hands. Too bad Cory couldn't see how harmless the scissors were. Then again, I wasn't the one getting my wings clipped.

I clipped the ends of his wings with care so not to cut into the blood shafts. Birds will bleed until they die when that kind of thing happens because the blood shafts can't heal.

After I had finished what he must have considered one of his torture sessions, I unwrapped him from the green towel. He, with quick motions, extended his wings in effort to get accustomed to their new shortened length. I put my index finger down in front of him and commanded, 'Uuup.' Without hesitation, Cory climbed onto my finger from the concrete floor. I was wise to the fact, even at the age of twelve, that he was quick to respond to my command not because of his deep respect for me, but because he knew that getting on my finger was one step closer to his safe, familiar cage. I straightened my legs with care and stood up so not to scare Cory. If alarmed, he would try to fly but instead go plunging to the floor. Trust me. I know.

I glided my finger that Cory was perched on into his cage using the same careful fashion. He hopped in and fluffed out his feathers to show his satisfaction.

The cage was old and riddled with dents. The only way that Uncle Havord would let me keep a bird inside the house was if I promised that it would cost him no money. Cory had been given to me by a vender in Madel who could no longer afford to take care of him. To keep my promise, I scouted around Uncle Havord's land until I found an old parakeet cage half buried in the meadow not far from the house. There were tons of other forgotten treasures in the meadow: glass bottles that collected rain water, an overturned washtub wounded by a huge hole, a wagon wheel that laid flat on the ground with various types of ferns growing in between the spokes, and much, much, more. There was so many disgarded artifacts out there that I would see something new every time I visited the meadow. Uncle Havord said the items were left by previous owners of the house, and the trash wasn't worth picking up because visitors couldn't see it from the yard. Uncle Havord cared very much of what visitors thought. I dug up the parakeet cage and cleaned it off. It may have been a little too small for Cory, but it had to do.

I talked to Cory as I latched his cage door. He would **** his yellow and red head to listen to me.

'Gooood boy! You are such a gooood boy. It's good that you have that cage you're in. It protects you from all those nasty crows,' I said. I looked over to the small square window across the room from Cory's cage. Usually, I could see crows pecking at the ground for insects but not that day.

'You wouldn't want to be outside flying around, anyway. Down here, it may seem that it wouldn't be so scary, but out there in the wild there is a lot of mean birds that wouldn't mind eating you up. I'd rather have you in here where I know you are safe,' I continued.

Cory shuffled across his perch to eat some seeds out of his dish as if to close the discussion. I gathered the seeds from outside. I gave him ones that were naturally dry (like sunflower seeds) instead of ones from fruit. I never heard of a cockatiel eating apple seeds, so I decided they probably weren't good for him. He made me happy. I was oblivious to the fact that I was a Sainikar."

[knivesout]

*Bump.*


I'm not able to think of any feedback - something tells me I'd need to read thewhole thing to react, but maybe someone else will be able to respond?

[littlemissattitude]

A couple of things.

I really like the description of the meadow and the things in it, and the explanation for why they are there. I find it a quite evocative piece of description, within a nice piece of writing.

It's hard to say more, as knivesout commented, because it is hard from the small passage you have posted to get a feel for where the story is going, or even what kind of story it is, in terms of its genre.

I have to say that I was a bit confused by the shift from third person to first person.