It was the flickering almost-shadows that drew me outside. I say almost because I wondered how there could be shadow with so much cloud. But there they were, tracing faint shapes; a collective streaming ellipse in the sky. Soundless.
And then another cloud, a low thrum, and I knew what brought the gulls. A swarm of insects, tiny and winged. Sticking to my damp skin, working their way into my hair, slipping under the thin gaps between clothing and flesh.
One of These Birds is Not Like the Others
© Karen McRae, 2014