Thank you for your review.
I don’t own a cuckoo clock. Never own as the matter of fact. But it always fascinated me.
As for “plume” versus “pluck”, I really meant the latter. But there is a mistake and it should read: “Now I’ll pluck all your plumage, feather after feather.”
Jack
Flash Fiction / Monday morning. (Analysis)
Monday morning. The cuckoo exits the clock on the wall and hesitantly looks at me.
I don't see it. So the bird makes the cuckoo once. Turns left and right, looking for some flying sandal or pillow, but a moment later, reassured, cuckoos three times more. Then it enters into the clock to check out what is the hour, and returns to make three more morning battle cries.
I hear the bird and try to recollect where I put my slippers. Then I remember when I threw them on the cuckoo the last Monday, the bird ducked and they flew through the window. I even recollect Mike, my neighbor living the story under mine, crying with surprise, when he went out to the balcony and some puffy slippers floated down on his head.
Do I have something else to throw at this arrogant bird? I don't think too much about it. (Thinking at this hour? Are you nuts?) I tuck the pillow under my ear and step down into dungeons of morning oblivion.
But another ear feels something touching it. I try to understand what it could be, but a sudden "CUCKOO" makes the understanding trivial.
The only question is, how the bird flew away from the clock.
I open my left eye. (The right is stuck in the dream.) The eye tries to pop-up from the socket: Cuckoo is flying in the room from chair to table, to the picture of Dali, then Escher, then to the clock. When the eye gets used to the morning light, I cannot find the bird, because it's hiding inside the clock.
"Hey, Mr. Cuckoo. Do you hear me? What have I here?"
The head pops out from the hole in the clock and looks in my direction.
"Mr. Cuckoo. Do you want to have it? Come. Come to me and I will give it to you."
Head to the left. Head to the right. Beak opens and closes. Wings stretch out and the bird juuumps to my bed.
"Ah. Here you are. The damn bird! Now I'll pluck all you plume, feather after feather. You'll feel the same way as I, when you cuckoo in my ear. Darn bird!"
And I begin to shake it. More and more, until the bed is shaking too.
.
"What? What do you want? Why do you wake me up so early?"
"Early? You asked me to wake you at 7am. It's now 10 minutes later. I am tired to wake you. Next time use an alarm clock! And now wake and rise. You will be late."
"Late? For what?"
"You said you want to cycle before the work."
"I told you that?
"Yep."
"And you believed?"
"??"
"Are you sure that today is Monday?"
"??"
"You know, maybe you made a mistake. Or maybe I am dreaming about you? Yeh. That's it. I am dreaming about you."
(The kiss was a surprise. Very delicate, wet and feeling very hot surprise.)
"Not that I didn't like it, but why did you kiss me just now?"
"It's years since you told me you dreamed about me."
"Yeh. Right. Then maybe we'll send children and do ... you know ..."
"But you have to go to the work."
"Will the work run away if it won't see me today??"
"Hmm ..."
"Oh, come here!"
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yoshi_writes reviewed Version 1 -
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I thought this piece was quite hilarious shaking that damm bird but you lost in the middle of the secound page, but it was good but after shaking the bird part I did’nt understand where the story was going.
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Matthewtuckey reviewed Version 1 -
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‘Bird makes the cuckoo’- I assume you’re talking about the sound?
‘Battle cries’- not really a relevant way of describing it. I don’t think the cuckoo goes into battle, even figuratively speaking. Ontop of this, the cuckoo clock originates from Switzerland- a country that never gets involved in wars. So it’s a completely inappropriate analogy, if you ask me.
Is this a real cuckoo? If it is, make it more real- that would be original.
Why would the slippers ‘float down’ on his head? What happens here isn’t clear.
‘Dungeons of morning oblivion’- Interesting, but I’m not sure what’s being described here. Inside? outside? Is it bright or dark? It’s such a weird line that I don’t know what I’m supposed to envisage.
‘because it’s hiding inside the clock’- how would you know this? Your own first person narrative has just turned omniscient.
‘What have I here?’- You’ve not told us what’s in your hand.
‘The damn bird!’- I’m assuming you grab hold of him at this point. You don’t describe it though! Do you grab by the neck? The leg?
‘you plume’- your plume
‘I am tired to wake you’- what does this mean?
There’s a lot in this that doesn’t make sense. The ending was weird, which could be good if handled properly. Original, but tragically lacking in clarity.
Flyingpirateofdoom reviewed Version 1 -
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I get the impression that you own a cuckoo clock. Also from that impression, you hate how it wkaes you, but you have a fondness for the clock itself. I like the way you personify the cuckoo. He has a clear memory of being thrown at and tentatively gives his alarm fearing another strike. On page two in the second paragraph you “now I’ll pluck all you plume, feather after feather.” I believe it should be “Now I’ll plume all your plummage, feather after feather. Good stuff, and nice work.
jthorn28 reviewed Version 1 -
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I kind of liked this. It was clever, and you really done a good job of capturing particular moments in time. I really liked the line ending, ”.....down into dungeons of morning oblivion.”
TravisMaximus reviewed Version 1 -
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Quite enjoyable. Brief, concise, clear and cute.
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