The Bird's Necklace. Or, The Half Hour Story, Volume 2

(The following, like part 1 of this story, was written in about half an hour. I'm not being as strict as I was the other night, however. And there won't be a word count. It is first draft, so any minor mistakes should be ignored. I'll try and keep it coherent, however.)

If anything, today was even weirder. I mean, seeing a ghost of your dead father could probably be classed as clinically insane, but you have no idea what I'm about to tell you.

I got an e-mail late last night, just as I finished up my entry. It said,

"You're first impresshuns were correct. A bt. That was not ur fater. Keep ur is peeled."

And that was it. Four badly constructed, mis-spelled and most odd sentences. Bizarro.

I thought it was just Kat playing one of her tricks again, but it couldn't have been. OK, this might sound even stranger, if you're a computer whizz, but there was no e-mail address. No sender. It was just there, in my inbox. (Well, of course it was in my inbox, it was hardly going to be out of it.)

I was getting tired by this point though, so went to bed. I didn't have a single dream. Not that I can remember, anyway. I've always been like that, come to think of it. I only seem to be able to recall the really violent ones, like a bloody fight between two birds etc. Oh, wait, getting sidetracked now.

Woke up the next morning, did the usual routine of eat and ignore, then left. Friday. Too nice a day to go into school. I mean, it's nearly the weekend, so what's one more day going to matter? I decided to climb the roof of the local church, St. Albans. It's a nice spot. It's the sunniest place you can get to really.

The church is a bit of a dump now, though, to be honest. Barely anybody bothers with church anymore. It's fallen completely into disrepair: tiles missing, lead stripped, doors hanging off, birds crapping on all the windows... It's probably pretty dangerous to climb, actually, but you only live once, eh? And if I were to fall to my death, it's not exactly like anyone would miss me. Except maybe Onion. That's if dogs have memories at all.

Anyway, I climbed the church. I'm pretty adept at doing it now: climb the skip, grip hold of the entrance lobby (which sticks out, a bit like a bricked up porch, I suppose), and clamber the rest of the way.

I sat atop the spire, and looked as far as I could. Which, of course, wasn't really all that far. Only as far as Hollier Corp. wanted us to see.

I...OK, I don't want to patronise you, but I know that some of you might not know what I mean by that statement. Not those of you outside The City, anyway. If there's anyone out there at all. So I'll do my best to explain, briefly. No details.

The City is split into various subburbs, Nitnow being one of them. Each subburb has its own dome covering it, like a massive pudding bowl. At certain points, there are airlocks connecting the subburbs to other subburbs, and public spaces like parks, which have their own dome. The domes were built by Hollier to protect us. Or opress us, depending on which paper you read. But anyway, they're there.

The church's spire is as high in the Nitnow dome as you can get: it's bang in the middle of the subburb so it can reach the very tip of the dome. Above it is the air machine. Pumping cool, refreshing, pure air into Nitnow. That's really the only reason no-one's demolished the church: if something ever goes wrong with the air, someone'll have to scale it to fix the problem. I guess they don't really expect teenagers like me to climb up old buildings.

Yeah, right.

Anyway, I was sat there on the roof, looking at the sky though the dome. I guessed it was probably about mid day judging by the sun, but I never really paid much attention in either geography or science, so for all I knew it could've been three in the afternoon. My mind, as it always did in these situations, began to wander. I could probably get up there. Get out, out into the outside world. I'd not last long. Oh no. But to be the first person to step outside Nitnow in 20 years...that'd be something. Escape.

I think like that all the time. I've never had the nerve to do anything though, of course not, but who knows? One day I might finally decide to break out. The one thing we're never supposed to do. It's mighty tempting, isn't it?

I'd had enough after a couple of hours of my crazy thoughts. I spun round and started climbing down, when I saw something. A blackbird. Blackbirds aren't that unusual, but this one was a bit different. It seemed to have a collar around its neck, like something you'd put on your cat or dog to symbolise ownership. It looked to be made of pure gold, and had a charm hanging beneath it, which looked like a tiny capsule.

I slowly moved to take a closer look. My foot slipped. Yeah, OK, I know I said I was good at climbing, but I wasn't really paying attention, so shut up. Amazingly, despite the sound it made, which with all the quiet up here sounded about as loud as a chainsaw firing up, the bird didn't fly away. In fact, it got closer to me. I regained my balance, and met it halfway.

It bowed it's head. Yeah, honestly. Like it was greeting a monarch. Bowed. I've never been bowed at in my life by a human, let alone a blackbird. I slowly removed its necklace, a reverse medal-giving ceremony. And then, it's job seemingly done, it flew off, without so much as a caw.

I opened the capsule. It was pretty heavy actually. I reckon the bird must've been happy to get it off its neck. Inside was a note, written on what looked to be a cigarette paper.

"Wait up 2nite. Ill emal agin. B redy to do whats nesecary."

I had no idea. Again. I haven't recieved another e-mail yet, but I'll sure I will soon. After I've posted this, no doubt. Nothing else bizarre happened today, thankfully. Maybe the Universe decided I'd had my fill. I can't shake the feeling that this all means something though. What, I have no idea, but something. I'll write back soon. Unless I get sectioned.