Plain Sight
A piece of magical realism flash fiction
A bird no bigger than half her fist landed on Nara’s shoulder. It was red and blue and gold.
“Actual gold,” Nara said to it. “Dude, I’ve checked the feather you dropped yesterday, checked it back in the lab, and damn — it’s actual gold!”
The bird chirped a little, watching the late afternoon forest swaying in the melancholy wind.
“I mean, how?” Nara whispered.
The bird blinked, and ruffled its feathers a little.
”It’s a miracle your kind is still alive, dude,” Nara said to it. “It sure is awesome. I wonder how you did it, though. How you hid from all the colonists, down through the centuries. Guess I’ll never know.”
The bird blinked again, and cried out. This new sound reminded Nara of her daughter’s laughter.
She turned her head towards the bird, to see it better.
The bird was now black. All of its feathers. Dark as the descending night.
It laughed again.
