The day had started innocently enough. Tom had risen from bed, ate breakfast, puttered around the house for a bit. Nothing out of the ordinary. A day like any other. He had then decided to head down to the beach with his daughter for a little stroll. Fresh air was always good, and keeping the toddler occupied was a challenge on some days.
For some time, they had a wonderful afternoon. He walked along as the little girl toddled around looking at rocks and shells and sand. They stopped for a bite to eat at a little vendor near the pier. The wind was fresh and cool and invigorating.
It was when he walked out to the point, carrying his sleepy but contented child, that suddenly he sensed a change. The air grew thick and musty. The waves began to pound on the rocks a little harder, and the birds. The birds became strange. At first he grinned a little, thinking it just a weird air-pressure anomaly, but the birds began to thicken, and circle. Closer and closer they came, thicker and thicker they grew.
Tom's amusement quickly turned to fear, and then outright panic. As he started to run, they rained down on him, pecking. Clawing. He shielded the child as best he could, and madly ran towards the restaurant at the edge of the beach, screaming as he went. Somehow, beyond all expectation, he reached the door of the building and tore it open, and looked inside.
It was full of birds. |
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