Shadows and Sparrows

De: Darlene Zagata

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

The sparrow fell from Elijah Farrigate's weathered hands like a prayer made manifest. Carved from reclaimed oak, no larger than his thumb, it nestled against dozens of its wooden siblings scattered across his workbench. Each bird held secrets in its tiny beak—fragments of words on paper thin as butterfly wings.

Outside his warehouse studio, the city's real sparrows called to each other in the pre-dawn darkness, their voices sharp with warning. Elijah paused, listening. Forty years of working with salvaged feathers and studying urban bird patterns had taught him to read their moods. Tonight, they spoke of disturbance.

He picked up his carving knife and began work on the final sparrow, his hands moving with the muscle memory of decades. The blade peeled away slivers of wood like secrets being revealed, layer by layer. This one would be different from the others—this one would carry the most important message of all.

The footsteps on the fire escape came soft as feathers, but Elijah heard them. He'd been expecting this moment for weeks, ever since the auction house inquiry, since the collector's visit, since the photographs started appearing on art blogs he'd never given permission to access.

He placed the unfinished sparrow among its flock and reached for his fountain pen. One last note to write, one final clue to leave behind. His granddaughter would understand, eventually. Maya had inherited more than his eyes and his stubborn streak—she had his mind for patterns, even if she'd chosen numbers over art.

The studio door rattled. Elijah smiled, pressed the last slip of paper into the final sparrow's beak, and scattered his flock across the space with careful precision.

The shadows were coming for him, but the sparrows would remember where the light had been.