FF: Flight of (the) Fancy 5; Sirius' Death-Journal cont'd

[msbeadsley]

No: HPFGUIDX 80861

Sirius Black, death-journal entry dated deathday plus five

I knew better.  Just like firewhiskey.  At least here, there are no 
hangovers.  Then again, I didn't think I could get angry here, 
either, and now I know better about that, too.

I am so tired of nothingness, of fading from featureless gray to 
solid unthinking darkness. Let me spend a little time trying merely 
to brighten up this place, add some color. That bird, yes, it was 
colorful. Loud, too, and funny...

Beak to tail, it was about as long as my arm from shoulder to 
fingertip, maybe a bit bigger.  It had an enormous, curved beak, 
large, bright red feathers, a long straight tail, and beady eyes set 
in the middle of white, featherless patches.  It opened nuts with its 
beak, commented raucously and unintelligibly on various things, and 
left chalky greenish mementos behind it.  Oh, and its feet were very 
strange:  two of its toes on each went forward, and two back.  It 
stood on one and used the other like a hand, holding the nut up to 
its beak to pry at. It could wedge apart shells I'd never have gotten 
into without a tool. I'd never seen anything even remotely like it.

There is it, ah, gone now, flown past. I'd forgotten the blue and 
yellow bits on its wings. As time went by, it would stand on my 
shoulder as I finished a letter, nibbling my hair, my ear--wait, I 
felt something, almost. Are you there, bird? (If I could still 
breathe I'd be holding my breath.) How can you stand on my shoulder 
when I no longer have one? But I remember having a shoulder, an arm, 
a hand. There. I do feel something. I remember very early on when it 
leaned its head down quite comically and fanned out all of its head 
feathers, begging, I was told by someone nearby, for a bit of a 
scratch. I was very wary of that beak. (Of course, that was before 
Buckbeak. I hope someone is looking after you, mate.) And the feel of 
its feathers: soft, like flower petals all growing in the same 
direction, having a very definite grain to them.

I do feel that. And in spite of the fact that I have no eyes, I feel 
a bit as if...well. How very strange this bird looks, so bright, and 
blurry around the edges. A macaw, that's what it's called. Hello, 
macaw. Mac. Would you like to learn a song? I think I will stop 
writing for a bit just now.

S.B.

[Sandy aka "msbeadsley"]