Tell A Tale in 500 Words
Ian Boyd By Ian Boyd
Pigeons, they owned the streets. They strutted.boldly, arrogantly. They had no fear. They combed their environment with an ability to detect food that bordered on telepathic. A dropped crisp was spotted and devoured in seconds, a discarded crust from a Greggs pasty became an almost instantaneous feeding frenzy. The bag of chips that the drunk had managed to spill at intermittent intervals along the High street was like a paper trail they followed with laser assisted accuracy.
As you walked along the pavement you felt almost guilty for interrupting their meal
As night fell the pigeons retreated to their hidden secure lairs and gave back to the streets what they had taken in the former of large white stains.The diurnal shift was over. They left the streets to the featherless pigeons.
They had been there all the time. They sat in doorways by cashpoint machines and outside supermarkets. But as night fell it was their time to shine. They had left their Hostels and council flats and headed for the gold paved streets of the city. Their numbers swelled as the bookmakers closed and they were in control now.
They waited as the pubs emptied and middle class drunks stumbled out full of guilt trying to justify their capitalistic wealth.
The pigeons would look at their victims with eyes full of pain,sorrow and poverty while trying to hide their ample bellies with their stinking work clothes.
Their familiar cry of God bless you echoed through the night.
Noah knew the flood was coming and he heard the word of God and obeyed but he put a line through pigeons.
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