Getting Old is For The Birds (a bit gory! :) )

Selma Kent was a crotchety old woman who lived alone in a large Victorian farmhouse, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city. Once a sweet and caring soul, Selma had become nasty and reclusive in her advanced age. With the death of her beloved husband some twenty years earlier, all that she now had to look forward to was a weekly visit from her only son, Thomas. Although Thomas spent most of his time in the city operating a shelter for runaway children, he still managed to make sure that his mother was well cared for, supplying her with food and other necessities.

Selma, now seventy six, spent most of her daytime hours sitting at her kitchen table, sipping a hot cup of tea and watching the birds feed near the big oak tree in the back yard. Thomas, knowing of his mother’s love for nature, had constructed two large feeders for her viewing pleasure. At first she was unimpressed, not wanting to deal with the hassle of replenishing the feed, but she soon had a change of heart. Every day, as the number of birds around the tree increased, so did the old woman’s interest. She was becoming a regular ornithologist.

One Thursday afternoon Selma noticed that both feeders were empty. She called Thomas to complain.

“Son, you have to bring me more bird food,” she demanded.

“Good God, Mom, I brought you two thirty pound bags last week. How many birds are you feeding? Maybe you should just let the feeders stay empty for a few days, thin out the numbers a little.”

“You made me the damned feeders, now you won’t bring me anything to put in them? You’re a disgrace as a son. You treat me like shit.”

“Okay Mom,” Thomas said, feeling the same guilt that he had experienced his entire life, ‘I’ll bring more feed tomorrow.”

Selma was satisfied and they said their goodbyes. The next morning Thomas arrived at the country home with two large burlap bags. He made his way into the kitchen and sat them down on the floor.

“Hi Mom,” he said, giving Selma a kiss on the forehead, “I got you larger size ones this time.”

“Well, are you gonna fill the feeders?” she asked, without even saying hello.

“You’re getting to be a real piece of work, Mom; there’s no talking to you anymore without dealing with a nasty attitude.”

“How should I act, Thomas? You let my feeders run out and then you set two heavy bags on the floor like you expect me to lug them out there.”

Thomas picked up the two bags of feed and he headed out back, kicking the door open in frustration. He stomped out to the oak tree and opened the first bag. He turned it over and the blue-green body of a dead boy spilled out onto the ground. He grabbed the youngster’s lifeless feet and he fastened them both to shackles, locking the restraints with a skeleton key. Selma just smiled as she watched from the kitchen. Her son’s homemade bird feeders were simple, but effective.

Thomas proceeded to empty the other sack, laughing as the body of a young girl dumped out at his feet. This time the child’s skin wasn’t blue or green; it was in fact pink and warm. There was a look of horror in the little girl’s eyes, but a long piece of duct tape over her mouth kept prevented her from screaming. Thomas grabbed her feet, shackling them to the remaining restraints, which were on the opposite side of the tree. He left her hands taped together, grabbed the empty bags, and then he headed back inside.

“There, you happy now?” he asked his mother.

“Not really. Why did you bring me a live one? It is kinda creepy to see a live kid chained to my tree.”

“You’re insane, Mom,” Thomas laughed. “I figured that the birds can feed on the dead one for a couple of days, giving the other one time to die. It’ll make the food last longer.”

“I guess,” Selma still seemed annoyed.

“I gotta run, Mom, lots of lost kids depending on me.”

“Bye Thomas,” Selma warmed up to him for a minute. “No matter what I say, you’re still a good boy, son.”

Thomas was happy to have his mother’s approval. He gave her a hug and then he departed. Selma went back into the kitchen and refreshed her tea cup, settling in for an extended round of bird watching. It didn’t take long for the giant buzzards to recognize the odor of dead flesh. They flocked to the boy’s body and began pecking at it, tearing off little pieces with each jab of their sharp beaks. Selma was thrilled to see her winged friends once again.

Little Tiffany could only gasp as she watched a bird snatch the eyeball out of the dead boy’s head. She wanted to vomit, but she knew that she had to fight the urge because of the tape over her mouth. Choking to death would only mean that she would become bird food that much sooner. She began to fumble with the tape around her wrists, trying to break her hands free, but it was too thick. She then proceeded to feel around behind her back, hoping to locate something sharp. After a few minutes Tiffany found what she had been looking for. It was a rough object that she could use to wear through the tape. Realizing that Selma was observing her actions through the window, she tried to keep her movements minimal. She rubbed her wrists back and forth over the rough object, eventually cutting through the layers of sticky tape.

Selma’s focus had mostly been on the boy. When she saw two large buzzards playing tug of war with a long piece of bowel, she became so excited that she almost wet her pants. It was at that moment that she had to run off to the bathroom.

Tiffany saw the old woman get up and disappear from the window. She spun around to see what the rough object that freed her was and then she immediately became sick again. It was the bottom jaw of a young child’s skull. The area behind her was littered with skeletal remains. Obviously the bird feeders had been operational for quite some time. Using her free hands, she ripped the tape off of her mouth and puked all over herself. Selma returned to her chair just in time to see it happen. Tiffany then began to scream, scaring the feeding birds off. The screaming didn’t bother Selma because there was no one around for miles, but the fact that her birds had been frightened away infuriated the old woman. She grabbed a large butcher knife from the kitchen counter and then she headed for the back yard.

Tiffany saw the old woman burst out of the back door and she also saw the stainless steel blade gleaming in the sunlight. The sudden rush of terror made it impossible for her to scream anymore.

“No one scares my birds away little girl!” Selma growled as she walked straight for Tiffany. “I’m gonna cut your little head off for that.”

Tiffany didn’t know what to do. Selma reached the child and then she drew the knife blade back like she was a Samurai warrior. Without thinking, the doomed girl reached around and grabbed the first hard object that she could find, throwing it at Selma’s face. There was a loud thud as a child’s skull slammed into the woman’s forehead, knocking her out cold and sending her brittle old body to the turf. Tiffany then stretched forward, grabbing Selma by the foot and pulling her closer. Praying that the old woman had a key to the shackles, she rummaged through the unconscious woman’s garments, finding nothing. It was at that moment that she spotted a key on the ground. Selma had probably been carrying it in her hand just in case she had to unchain the girl for some reason. Tiffany stretched out and tried to reach the key with her fingers, but she was about a half an inch short. Suddenly Selma groaned and the desperate girl lunged forward once more, stretching her back until it caused her pain. This time she found the key and immediately unlocked the restraints, setting her free.

When Selma woke up the buzzards were back and they were once again devouring the remains of the boy. The little girl was gone, but to where? She looked at the house and saw Tiffany’s face in the window. The little bitch had a smile on her face. Selma grabbed her knife and sprung to her feet. She took one step toward the house and the shackles stopped her forward progress, sending her face first to the ground. In doing so, the knife lodged itself in the old woman’s gut.

Watching from the comfort of the elderly woman’ kitchen, Tiffany couldn’t help but to smile at her handiwork. As the blood oozed from Selma’s body the little girl knew that it would only be a matter of time before the birds would have a magnificent feast. She would sit right there, have a cold drink, and wait for it to happen.