The only window in my room is an arrow slit, which I can slip my hand through. I can see the ground through here, but my shoulder stops me slipping through and jumping to my death. Every night I count the stars through this window. I sleep when I reach the seventy-third star, and I wake when the sun strokes my cheek. This is when my pigeon joins me. I call him Fuzzby because he has a feather that sticks up on top of his little head. He calls me Coo.
If you would like to read the rest of this story, please check out Weird Lies, the recent Arachne Press anthology in which it, and many other fantastical stories from the League archives, appears.
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