Amy Tran Mrs.

Meyer English 10B Honors: Period 5 February 1, 2013 Birds of a Feather Must Never Stick Together It was a dark and stormy night in 20th century London. On November 13, 1985, a beat- up sedan cruised down the twisting, tortuous terrain of the country. Using her windshield wipers, Sally Sparrow, age 26, battled the harsh weather of England like an untamed lion, the wipers whipping to and fro. The farther away that she traveled from her city home, the denser the dark forest became. Soon enough, the rain was so thick and the forest was so dark from the night that Miss Sparrow had to turn on her high beams in order to see her way. About a half hour later, Sally began to see the rickety Whippoorwill Estate through the dense rain. The Mansion had belonged to her great-great aunt Katherine Kathy Nightingale who had passed away a month ago from a mysterious accident and left Sally this Victorian- era Manor in her will. As Sally pulled up the expansive driveway, she saw little to no evidence of garden maintenance for the dark ivy vines crept up the black fence and gate as well as the Manor itself. Of course these rogue plants were not anything to compare to Aunt Kathys strange collection of lawn ornaments. These statues and sculptures were not the usual somber angel of God- type statues; they were assorted species of birds but not just little birds, large, human sized birds. Sally stepped out of her vehicle and lugged her bursting suitcase, toting it along with her as she walked through the courtyard full of stone and marble fowl. As she weaved through the winding path between the birds, a certain statue caught her eye. This statue of a nightingale had a name plate on its round base that said: Species: Nightingale Name: Katherine Kathy Nightingale

Years: 1904-1984. Miss Sparrow backed slowly away from the gigantic, Aunt Kathy-sized bird but tripped and hit her head on another, much smaller bird that was almost the size of a child. On further inspection, Sally read this to be Tommy Nightingale, Aunt Kathys unborn child. In the womb, Tommy had suffered complications and died so Aunt Kathy had had to bear her dead son. Quickly, Sally stood up, rubbed her now bruised head, and ran with her suitcase into the Mansion, fumbling for the keys in the process. She thought that she would be safer inside rather than with those creepy birds of a feather. After she closed the door to the Manor, she peered into the courtyard through a window to see if there was anyone there or if the rain had let up. It had not. Sally suddenly heard wings flap behind her. Arent they glorious? a crackling voice whispered in her ear. Sally jumped and clutched her heart so as to not have a heart attack. The voice came from this gangly woman quite tall for her seeming age. She wore a black and white typical maids dress and her hair was pulled back tight into a knot at the nape of her frail neck. Please do stop staring at me as if you do not know who I am, the voice said. This was her Aunt Kathys maid, Moira Arren. They had met when Sally was very young and staying at Aunt Kathys for a holiday and if Sally remembers correctly, Moira had not been a friendly woman. She often got Sally in trouble although she had done nothing wrong. From that vacant look in your over-sized eyes, you must be little, Sally Sparrow, am I right? Sally nodded tersely. Well come on then, Mistress instructed me to show you around the Estate, Moira said stiffly. I cannot believe that my dear Mistress would give a stupid little girl this entire House. I had been certain that she would have given it to me or at least, a better relative. Sally frowned at that statement but trudged on obediently following Moira, nearly slipping on the slick, hardwood staircase.

Miss Sparrow, please stop bumbling about and walk with your feet firm on the floor!Moira barked. Sally could not imagine why anyone in her family would like Moira; she was a dreadful woman. The pair stopped at a door and Moira said, Now, Miss, these are to be your quarters. Ive already put your belongings in your wardrobe. Since tomorrow is Sunday, I will be heading off to church. You may join me, if you like but if not, I will set a tray of breakfast on your bedside table. For the time being, you may explore the Manor, if you will but do NOT go into the room in the dark over there. That part of the Manor is strictly off limits. Supper will be served promptly at six forty five; do not be late for we have guests this evening. Before Sally could ask questions, Moira had slithered away into the dark of the said room at the end of the wing. Sally could not remember Moira bringing her luggage to her room, in fact, Sally could hardly remember what had happened in the last hour. How had her memory gotten so bad? Maybe she was sick. She does not remember being this forgetful. Hearing those strange bird wings again, Sally broke from her reverie and cautiously opened the double doors to her room, half expecting there to be bird statues and half expecting there to be real birds bursting from her quarters. Of course, being her overly imaginative self, there were surprisingly little to no birds in her room except for one small stone sparrow perched on her desk. Feeling a little more tired than usual, Sally took off her shoes, set the bedside cuckoo clock alarm for six oclock, slipped into bed, and drifted off into sleep hearing the sounds of bird flight again. Sally did not notice that there was not just one sparrow on her desk, there were now two. Waking from hearing flapping feathers and a cuckoo clock, Sally sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. After a rather long yawn, Sally noticed that there were now three sparrow statues on her desk. These birds carved from stone looked eerily right at Sally with their eyes without pupils or irises just a gray dead face. Sally thought that it must have been Moira who brought them in while she was sleeping. Sally thought she should lock her door to prevent any more intruders. Sally did not remember getting a good look at her room the night before; actually, she did not remember anything happening

last night. Sally grabbed the bedside clock to see what time it was and it read nine oclock in the morning. It was Sunday. Sally sat up and stretched her stiff arms, swinging her legs to the side of the bed when she noticed that she was not wearing her normal clothes anymore. Sally wore a white night gown that came down to her mid-calf. The room also looked different; it was less dusty and it looked almost new. Sally walked over to her wardrobe to open it and saw not her suitcase, but rows and rows of ball gowns and shoes that looked like they were from the 1800s. She stumbled backwards towards her bed in fear. She heard the sounds of bird flight and snapped her head towards her bed and there were four stone sparrows on her desk. She stared at her desk in a trance completely petrified in fear until she was brought back from her reverie when she heard the sounds of horses outside. Running to the large window, she saw horse-drawn carriages and men and women in elegant 19th century clothing. Sally tried to remember how she got to this mysterious Mansion but for some strange reason, she could not recall anything. Forgetting what was strange about her surroundings; Sally got dressed in one of her gowns and prepared for breakfast in the dining hall. Downstairs, Sally heard the sounds of guests in the parlor. As she entered the room, the guests suddenly stopped their idle chatter and looked straight at Sally. They all seemed to be familiar looking and Sally even saw her Great Aunt Kathy amidst the people. Weve been expecting you, Sally, Aunt Kathy said. Ever since weve all, you know, passed on, we have wanted a new member of the family to keep us company. I suppose you are wondering how you got here, dear. Youre dead. I realize that this may be difficult for you to process but frankly, you dont have much of a choice for you see, you are not allowed to leave. Sally was so afraid. She ran away from her deceased relatives and sprinted up to the room at the end of the wing to get some answers from Moira. Moira was sitting in a dark room with a single lamp lit in the corner of her desk. I see that you have met our guests. I should explain; this house was built by your great great great great great Grandfather. You see, when his beloved wife died, he could not bear to part from her

so he had his butler, my great great great great grandfather, take her body, cut it up, and construct a statue of a bird with her remains inside. That is the job that has been bequeathed to me from generation to generation of service to this house. Unfortunately for your great great great great great grandfather, he began to go mad with grief and realized that the statue was not enough and so he bribed the local man of black magic to put a spell on this house allowing the dead to walk freely among the living in this house.