I’d been a delivery man for years.. then suddenly, I was joined by a dark passenger….
Days of anticipation, waiting, and coordination had finally led to this: a dinner. To Darren, though, this wasn’t just any dinner. It was a dinner with Tereus, though nearly everyone … Continue reading Dinner for Two
Today, I saw a human at the edge of my yard. They seemed strange and stared listlessly at the house my human moved us to. I barked, and I barked, … Continue reading The Human at the Edge of My Yard
It’s been a long while since i’ve posted on this blog. But for any consistent readers, I’ve been working on a few other projects. Specifically, I’ve had a series of short stories published in OFM (OUT FRONT Magazine), and if you have time to read them, that would be great! Just head on over to https://www.outfrontmagazine.com/category/queer-voices/lit/ to see my short stories under the name Brian Aragon-Shafi Byrdsong
Next! I’m planning on turning the byrdiverse into more of a collective project so don’t unfollow this page just yet! just stay tuned for some more updates! With any luck, this page will soon be filled with Fiction, Poetry and visual art that will make. you. gag!
I hope you all will continue to follow me on this journey!
Siara and Jenny entered the forest with their guns held firmly in their hands. They weren’t the biggest fans of hunting, but this creature had killed seven people from their … Continue reading Luperia
It was just a hole in the ground, Malikai told himself. A hole that appeared in the backyard of his small, cozy summer cottage. A hole that sang to him; … Continue reading A Song for Malikai
Leigh stood in front of the room preparing to eulogize her father. She stared at the faces of those who came to attend. Some were friendly, but most were … Continue reading Leigh
The streets cry with the blood of the innocent,” my mother said. It was one of her favorite sayings, and to this day, I can’t forget it, especially with what happened to me the other day. I was walking down the street, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a specter…or at least what I thought was a specter. When I tried to look it in the face, it disappeared. So, I decided to continue walking through the streets and with every step, I hoped that the specter did not return.
The minutes passed, closer and closer to the hour of the witch. And still, I was not home; My mother had warned me about this exact situation, but it seemed that it didn’t matter how fast I walked, the street seemed to grow longer. Longer and longer, it grew, and me? I was looking at the ground, hoping that the specter didn’t see me walking. Suddenly, right in front of me, a figure appeared like a giant in the forest, and it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. It disappeared so quickly in fact that, for a few minutes I was unsure whether or not it actually existed.
Eventually, with one step in front of the other, I made it home. When I entered, my house wasn’t the same. The chairs had moved, and the room was organized differently than before. Despite this, I continued with my night.
I slept. I slept well. So well, in fact that I was unbothered by what was happening. My dreams, however, would not let me forget the specter in the street. I stared at this thang that had plagued me, and I could not identify it. Was it someone I knew? Was it a stranger? I did not know the answer to these questions, and it did not matter…the specter engulfed me. When all had become darkness, I awakened in my bedroom.
As I opened the door to leave my room, I found myself staring directly in the face of the specter…this thing that had plagued me for days. I finally understood why I could not recognize it. The specter was not a singular thing, no, it was a mixture of many things. The sins of our government, the abandoned, the people that only wanted to survive.; The forgotten, the dejected or in other words, the innocent. Finally, I understood, I too, was one of them.
“Las calles lloran con la sangre de inocentes”, se dijo mi madre. Era una frase favorita de ella por toda mi vida. Y aun hoy, todavía no puedo olvidarlo. Especialmente … Continue reading Sangre de Inocentes
Applause thundered from the concert hall as Saotomé Golán finished the closing note on his fifth symphony. According to him, it would be his last. Just days before this … Continue reading The Music Box