Magnus lazed on an inflatable flamingo, wishing it was a swan. An ardent admirer of aquatic birds—from pelican to penguin—he was, above all, a cygnophile. As the gaudy pink airbed rocked on the pool’s gentle waters, he drifted.
Opening his eyes, the pool had become a pond, fringed by reeds and lilies. Gentle waves lapped and dragonflies buzzed. His arms, once pinkish and freckled, had become adorned with alabaster plumage. His feet were shiny, leathery flippers. He slipped into the water and, with great pleasure, found himself buoyant and delicate. Below the surface, he kicked furiously, and above it, he began to glide graciously. He traversed the rippling waterhole from shore to shore. Then, finding an alcove of rushes, he noticed the nest: a mound of reed trash and snowflake feathers, cradling five perfect, blue-speckled eggs.
With absolute certainty, he knew them to be his cygnet-sons and cygnet-daughters, awaiting a father’s protection and warmth to release them from their eggshell bonds. Gently lowering his feathered buttocks into the nest, he covered his progeny with worthy reverence. As he nested, the beautiful Penny, beloved she-swan of his dreams, emerged from the watergrass thicket, speeding fervently towards him. Enthralled, he held out his wings to accept her embrace, but she hissed, spat and pummelled into him with force. He fell from the nest.
Re-emerging from the depths, his featherless skin slick with salt-chlorinated sheen, he returned to his polyvinyl flamingo, once again wishing it was a swan.
Lincoln Hayes is a resident of Townsville, Queensland. Although qualified as an archaeologist, he has spent most of his working life in government policy roles, before discovering a love of storytelling. His flash fiction and short stories have appeared Elegant Literature, Literally Stories, Commuter Lit, TWIST and Claws Out Literary.
I’m still giggling at the swan’s buttocks. Love this, Linc!
Oh to be a swan! Great job, Lincoln and very memorable.