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Raiders

A Story Every Day in 2024 Dec 8th ?/366

By Rachel DeemingPublished 2 years ago • 2 min read
Raiders
Photo by Library of Congress on Unsplash

This story comes with a Dharrsheena warning.

I'd been warned about black and white raiders from day one. Mum was always keen to share stories about anything that could hurt us, from the time that we were born really. She wanted us to be prepared. She never meant for us to be scared, just alert, because it could happen and she knew of others who had been victims of the thugs.

She wanted us to survive, that was all but it terrified us nonetheless.

I wondered if she knew more about it personally than she let on.

"One day, you'll be leaving the nest and branching out with your own little fledglings to think about," she'd tweet. We'd laugh at her in her earnestness. She'd merely cock her head at us and nod knowingly.

Time soon flies and before we all knew it, I'd got myself a mate and we were soon expecting. It was down to me to make sure that she and our young ones were provided for and so, off I went, practicing every day, bringing home the bacon fat and the seeds of a good life.

I always felt like I was cautious. I was no bird brain. I knew fat cats were lurking everywhere, waiting for their opportunity to pounce and expand what they had at your expense, never mind the raiders.

But raiders were clever. Crafty. Bigger than me, always on the prowl, their harsh cry a sign of their approach, like a group of bandits. They'd watch, sharp faces and bright eyes. Bastards.

"You've not been followed, have you?" the missus would ask on my return and I'd assure her that no, I'd been careful on the wing, ducking and diving, piloting my way back to her with every precaution taken.

She'd settle back down again then, sitting pretty, the warmth from her small, little body radiating outwards as we waited expectantly for our young ones' arrival.

But I was wrong. I had been followed.

They waited until I'd gone to ransack my home.

The missus had flown. Broken remnants of sky blue shell was all that was left of my family. Brutal it was.

But they won't win next time. This robin won't let them.

***

366 words

I apologise for the grim nature of this tale. I apologise for no Little Red Leaf instalment today. Just need to keep going for a little bit longer...

MicrofictionHorror

About the Creator

Rachel Deeming

Storyteller. Poet. Reviewer. Traveller.

I love to write. Check me out in the many places where I pop up:

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    Written by Rachel Deeming