Summer Bird Stories

Family-Friendly Short Stories, Cartoons, and Illustrations

Grandfather and George: The Hat

George helped his grandfather clean out the closet in his guest room.   They’d filled a garbage can with old papers and clothes with holes in them. They’d filled a box with things to donate. Then George put everything else back into the closet.

Grandfather sat on a chair and told George where everything should go. At last, all that was left was a jaunty black hat. “Do you like that hat?” Grandfather asked.

“I like it a lot,” George said.

“You can keep it,” Grandfather said. He leaned forward and plucked the hat out of George’s hands and dropped it on his head.

“Thank you,” George said.

Grandfather thanked him for his help and sent him home with a handful of cookies. George lived around the corner, so it wasn’t far to walk.

He waved to Grandfather, who was watching out the window, and jumped down the front steps. A strong breeze rustled the tree branches behind him. George turned around.

A fluffy black cat with a long blue scarf and golden eyes was flying through the air. It snatched the hat off George’s head as it flew past. “Hey, that’s mine!” George said. He started running.

The cat paused. It spun the hat between its paws. The breeze turned and twisted, making the leaves dance. A woman on a phone stopped walking and stared.

“Hey, kid, do you see that?” She asked.

“The cat?” George asked.

“No, the hat. The hat! What cat?” She said.

The cat gripped the spinning hat tightly between its paws and flew off. George waved to the woman and ran off to follow it. He caught up to the cat in the park on the corner.

The cat held the hat between its teeth and was flying in and out of a tree, darting around branches at the last minute. The breeze followed, weaving itself among the leafless branches, back and forth. The cat’s scarf brushed the branches behind it.

Two small children stood there watching with their mouths hanging open. “Do you see the cat?” George asked.

One of the children turned to look at him. “Did you lose a cat? We haven’t seen one. Did you see that hat? Look!”   The child pointed to the tree.

“Uh, thanks,” George said. The cat flew around the corner and George followed.

The cat bit firmly on the brim of the hat and began flying upside down loop-de-loops down the sidewalk. George chased after it. “Is that your hat, kid?” A man yelled as George ran by. “Is it a trick hat? How does it do that?”

“I don’t know,” George yelled over his shoulder and kept running.

The cat stopped right in front of George’s house.   It was flipping the hat into the air when he arrived. He watched it fly upward, spinning like a quarter, then dropping into the cat’s waiting paws.

“Do you want to play?” George asked. The cat kept flipping the hat. It didn’t look at him.

“Do you like the hat?” George asked. The cat looked down at him and caught the hat without looking and pulled it into its chest. The breeze swirled, lifting the edge of the cat’s scarf.

“You can keep it,” George said. “But it might be too big.”

The cat’s golden eyes narrowed. It put the hat on its head. Somehow, the hat fit perfectly. It nodded at George and flew away, breeze and scarf trailing behind.

George told his mother he was home and called his grandfather on the phone. “Grandfather,” he said, “You won’t believe what just happened!”

“Was it that cat? I’ve never seen anything like it. A flying cat!” Grandfather said.

“You saw?” George asked.

“Of course I did. I was looking out the window,” Grandfather said. “This window right here, and…” Grandfather paused. “Oh no, I need to go. A monkey just stole my best shovel and is climbing the neighbor’s fence. Where did the monkey come from?”   Grandfather hung up.

“Huh,” George said. “At least I still have the cookies.” He pulled one out of his pocket and took a bite. “Ew, they’re pickle flavored.”

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The Patchy Piper

Dr. Roberts was the pride of Martiville. After years of patient research and effort, he had managed to produce the world’s first shot glass Chihuahua. He proudly displayed the little puppy in his hand at the town council meeting. It was tiny, as small as a mouse, and completely adorable. Nearly every one lifted their cell phones in unison to record the historic moment.

The town was smitten. A new town sign was commissioned, “Martiville: home of the shot glass Chihuahua.” Citizens joined waiting lists to become approved breeders. Dr. Roberts happily accepted as many applications as possible, certain that there would be a large demand for the little puppies.

Three years later, Dr. Roberts was in disgrace and the new town sign was gone.   The little dogs were intelligent and within months many had managed to escape from the breeders. They took residence in the walls of all the buildings in town and began to multiply.

They made scratching sounds and barked and squealed at all hours. At first they only came out at night, but now they could be seen during the day too. They ruined food not kept in metal containers. They ripped and chewed anything and everything. Furniture, clothing, books, toys, papers, and tools.   They traveled in packs.

Cats wouldn’t go near them. In fact, there were few cats left in Martiville. Most had run off after the first year. The dogs were too smart for traps. When they tried fumigation, the dogs somehow managed to migrate to surrounding homes until it was safe to return. The citizens of Martiville didn’t know what to do.

They held yet another city council meeting to try to solve the problem. They tried to ignore the tiny dogs nipping at their ankles and piddling on the carpet.   The dogs that ran across the table and chewed on their notes and barked as they tried to speak were harder to ignore.

When they invited comments and suggestions, an angry mother stood. “My baby was in his crib. They chewed through the mosquito netting and bit him seven times before I could rescue him.   If they’re biting people now, it won’t be long before they start spreading disease. We may be looking at the next great plague,” she said.

The alarmed citizens began to shout at the mayor and town council.   Several were googling plagues and house listings in nearby towns on their phones. When the mayor finally had calmed the meeting down, a man at the back stood.   He wasn’t a citizen of the town, and his clothes looked frayed and patched because of wear, not puppies.   His beard was scruffy and his face lined.

“I would be willing to solve your problem,” he said. “For a fee, of course.”

The mayor looked skeptical. “Do you have any references?”

The man smiled. “Not exactly. But, I’d be willing to wait to collect my fee until after my work is done. I’d be happy to sign a contract binding us both to our agreement,” he said.

“What do we have to lose?” A council member asked.

“Do it!” Someone yelled from the audience.

They held a vote. It was unanimous. The scruffy, patchy man was hired. “What is your name?” The mayor asked.

“Call me The Piper,” the man said.

The mayor frowned. “All right. When can you get started?”

“Meet me here tomorrow morning at ten,” the piper said. “I’ll get rid of your pesky problem as soon as I’ve read over and signed the contract.” He whirled and his patchy coat swirled around him as he left the room.

The whole town gathered at city hall the next morning. The mayor and the town council signed the contract.   The patchy piper read through the terms and signed with a flourish. Then he pulled out a little flute, smaller than a piccolo.

He put it to his lips and blew and moved his fingers. No sound came out. He paused.   Nothing happened. He soundlessly played again.

There was a dull, roaring noise, as tiny dogs poured through doors and windows of every building, barking eagerly. The number of dogs that had been living in the walls was surprising.   Nearly everyone had their cell phones out to record the event.

The piper led the dogs to a nearby river where they jumped in and were swept away and drowned. “That’s barbaric!” A citizen yelled.

“Who cares!” another one said.

“Wasn’t there some other way?” Someone asked.

The piper turned to the mayor. “Let’s go back to city hall and complete our agreement.”
“Wait a moment,” the mayor said. “We need to calculate taxes and permit fees and the required insurance costs for city employees.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement,” the man said. “It wasn’t in the contract.”

“It’s part of our city laws and automatically applies to any agreement made by the city,” a city council member said.

“I am not a citizen of your city. Your laws do not apply to your agreement with me,” the man said.

“Of course they do,” the mayor said.

The man looked around at the crowd. Hundreds of cell phones were recording the argument. The man smirked. “If you do not pay me the full amount, I will make it impossible to use any technology within your city limits.”

“Are you threatening us? We don’t bargain with terrorists. You just invalidated our agreement,” The mayor said.

“We could put you in jail for that,” a city council member said. “You get nothing.”

“He did what you asked. I think you should pay him,” Dr. Roberts yelled from the crowd.

“As though anyone is going to listen to anything you have to say,” someone yelled. The citizens began to shout at each other and the mayor and the piper.

“Is that your final answer?” the piper asked.

“Yes,” the mayor said.

“Very well,” the piper said. He lifted his flute to his lips and began to play another soundless tune. The cell phone lights blinked out. The streetlights and houselights followed.   The man swirled his patchy coat and turned, walking out of town, playing as he left.

Nothing that used electricity of any kind worked. Cars refused to run when they crossed city limits. Nothing they tried fixed it. The city of Martiville died, just like that. People walked their belongings in wagons and wheelbarrows to trucks waiting just outside city limits. Within weeks, nearly everyone had left.

It’s Better When She’s Calm

It happened when they were on vacation. They traveled to a warm and sandy place. The sunsets were beautiful and they all wore sandals everyday.

Dad insisted on early morning walks. They left before the sun was up. Dad carried Charlotte in a baby carrier on his back, pointing out things he found interesting. Everyone else trailed behind him, walking around hills of sand and spiky plants. Once, a snake crossed the path, drawing s-shapes in the sand.

On the last morning, a horde of tiny flying lizards burst out of a little sand cave and crossed the path right in front of them. The lizards were a glittery metallic purple color. They’d never seen anything like it.

“What are they?” Dad asked. He’d spoken quietly, but one of the lizards turned. It flew in slow circles around him while he held as still as possible.   Then it darted in behind him.

Dad tried to turn, but the lizard managed to perch briefly on the back of the baby carrier. Charlotte screamed. Dad quickly turned and crouched, putting himself between Charlotte and all of the lizards. The little lizard flew away to join the others, disappearing behind a hill of sand.

Mom rushed behind Dad to check on Charlotte. “She’s bleeding,” Mom said. “I think it bit her.” Charlotte was wailing loudly.

The other children, Angie and Brian, scooted closer. They clung to Mom, one on each side. Dad tried to turn his head to look behind him. “Is she going to be okay?” He asked.

“It looks okay, like she was pricked by little pins. I don’t know if it was venomous though. We should find a doctor,” Mom said.

So, they spent the last day of vacation at the hospital. The doctor hadn’t heard of flying lizards in the area.   He couldn’t find any information about them when he looked them up either. “Maybe you saw bats and the light was just strange,” the doctor said.

Charlotte was covered in crumbs from vending machine cookies. She was happy and calm and cooed at the doctor.   The doctor smiled and gave them lists of things to look for.   He suggested they check in with their doctor when they arrived home.

The area with the bite was a little red and swollen the next day, but Charlotte seemed fine. They traveled home and went back to work and school and regular life. It seemed like the incident would just be another odd vacation story to tell.

Then, a month later, Brian rescued the remote from Charlotte. Charlotte wasn’t done chewing on it. She roared at him. “What are you watching?” Mom asked from the kitchen.

“That was Charlotte,” Brian said.

“What was Charlotte watching, then?” Mom asked.

“No, it was Charlotte that roared,” Brian said.

“Very funny,” Mom said.

Later that evening, they all were in the living room watching a movie.   Charlotte was toddling around, carrying her dolls and toys into the room and hiding them in between the side of the couch and the wall.

She tripped over Angie. She squawked and fire poured out of her mouth. The couch looked singed. “What just happened?” Angie asked.

“I think Charlotte is a were-dragon,” Brian said.

“Don’t be silly, there’s no such thing,” Dad said.

Charlotte pulled the popcorn bowl off the couch. She had somehow grown claws and sharp little teeth and was making grumbly sounds as she ate. “Is the moon full?” Mom asked.

Angie ran to the window. “It is,” she said.

They all looked at Charlotte. She was gnawing on her sippy cup and shredding her favorite blanket. “Well, this could be interesting,” Dad said.

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Time Travel

After six decades of work, planning, and determination, Johan finally perfected his plans for a time machine. When he told his sister Anna, she was worried about the consequences of his discovery.

“Johan, if you change the past, you may not like how that changes the future.   Look forward, not back,” his sister said.

Johan laughed. “Anna, if time travel is possible, I can keep changing things until I get the outcome I want.”

Anna frowned. “And if you see yourself?   Will you go mad?”

“Does it matter?” Johan asked. “I can fix that too. There is nothing I do or have done that can’t be fixed now. The world is at my fingertips. I can live a thousand lifetimes and pick the one I want to keep.   I am now effectively immortal.”

“Perhaps you are already mad, Johan,” Anna said. Johan just laughed.

When Johan gave the plans for his machine to his younger self, the older self and his machine disappeared and young Johan was alone. The future had changed and older Johan, as he was, would no longer exist.

It took young Johan a decade to build the machine from the plans.   Finding funding was difficult.   He considered publicizing his research and asking for donations, but he hesitated.

If others had the option of changing time, they could change it in ways he didn’t approve of. They could steal his work and keep him from being born. They could hurt things he loved and help things he didn’t care for.

He only trusted his future to his own hands. So, he kept the research quiet. He worked at a terrible job that he hated to earn the money for materials.   He took classes to learn the construction techniques he’d need.

Young Johan worked through holidays and had no other hobbies. He had no friends and nothing he did for fun.   Anna, Johan’s sister, was the only person he told about the time machine.

“Johan, I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said. “I think you need to remember to live in the present.”

Johan laughed. “I can live all I want when the machine is finished. I have multiple lifetimes ahead of me.”

“Do you remember your last lifetime?” His sister asked. “The lifetime where you created this machine?”

“No,” Johan said. “This time I’ll keep a journal. I won’t include technical information though, just in case it falls into the wrong hands. I’ve already memorized and burned the plans for the machine.”

Anna frowned. “I don’t think that’s wise Johan. If you can’t refer to the plans, you may make a mistake in your work and not know it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Johan said.

Finally the machine was ready. He was a decade older and wiser. Perhaps he could give his younger self some pointers so this moment could come sooner.   Johan thought about it.

He remembered watching his older self fade away, leaving no memories behind.   If he gave the information to his younger self, his present self would cease to exist and he’d have nothing to show for all his work. He would be gone before he had a chance to really live.

Perhaps he could study some history and live in the past for a while first.   He could carefully use his knowledge to protect himself and perhaps make a little profit to pass on to his younger self later. It wasn’t as though waiting a bit would make a difference to his younger self.

When he was ready, he could reconstruct the plans and pass them on with the money he’d made and the lessons he’d learned. That would make everything easier. He picked a date to visit and prepared to leave.

“Johan, you don’t have to do this,” Anna said.

“I have waited my whole life for this. If I don’t go, I think I would always regret it,” Johan said.

“I will miss you,” Anna said.

“You won’t remember that I left,” Johan said.

Johan pressed buttons and pulled levers. The machine disappeared and reappeared. However, something must have gone wrong. There was no civilization on the horizon.

Johan stepped out of the machine and looked around at the strange forest.   He leaned over to examine an unusually large flower when the ground began to shake. He had enough time to stand, turn, and face his fate. Then a dinosaur ate him.

The machine was smashed. The knowledge of time travel was lost to the world. Anna did miss him after all.

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Charlie’s Room: The Shoes

Isaac was dreaming. Somehow he knew he was dreaming, but he couldn’t quite wake up. In his dream, people kept knocking on the door. He’d open the door, and the person would smile and wave and walk away. He’d close the door and the knocking began again.

The tempo of the knocking changed. Now it was a monkey at the door. Then it changed again and it was a dog knocking in a shuffle-tap rhythm.   The knocking grew sharper. He opened the door and no one was there.   He looked back and forth. He heard a strange rustling sound and looked down.

A bird was perched on the door knob. He looked down at the bird and it looked up at him. It launched itself off the knob, and he felt the feather soft touch of its wings on his face as he woke up.

Marianne’s hair was in his face. He sat up. She rolled over and the blankets rustled. There was a tapping sound coming from outside the room.

Isaac stood up and walked softly to the door and opened it. There was nothing there. He checked the doorknob and then behind the door. Nothing there either.

The tapping sound started again in a different rhythm. It was coming from Charlie’s room. Charlie’s door was open a little. Isaac pushed the door open all the way and looked inside.

Charlie was asleep. His quiet, regular breaths sounded loud in the middle of the night. Moonlight streamed in through the window, lighting the carpet in front of the closet. Inside the closet a pair of shoes danced.

Tap tap tappity tappity tap tap tap they danced. They floated and whirled and danced some more. And then they stopped.   Isaac walked into the room. His bare feet made whispery noises on the carpet.   Another pair of shoes started to dance.

Isaac sat in the moonlight in front of the closet and watched the shoes dance.   He softly hummed a tune. The shoes danced in time to the tune as he hummed.   He sang a lullaby. A pair of shoes waltzed.

Isaac clapped quietly after each pair of Charlie’s shoes took turns performing.   He considered fetching some of his shoes and maybe Marianne’s too. He really wanted to see if his sandals would do a shuffling, kicking dance or more of a tapping twirling one.

Just as he started to stand up, a cloud drifted in front of the moon. The light dimmed. The shoes stopped. Isaac sat back down and waited hopefully. The shoes didn’t move. He waited and listened to Charlie breathe quietly.

He started to feel tired. He laid down on the carpet so that he could wait more comfortably. He was really, really tired. The shoes would wake him up if they started dancing again. He could just take a short nap. He fell asleep.

Charlie woke him up in the morning. “Dad, why are you sleeping on the floor?” He asked. He shook Isaac’s arm.

Isaac sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was morning. The sun was coming up, and the shoes in Charlie’s closet stood neatly in rows.   Had it been a dream? If it was a dream, then why was he in Charlie’s room?

“Dad?” Charlie asked.

“I’m not sure,” Isaac said. “I think your shoes were dancing.”

“I sometimes have strange dreams too, Dad,” Charlie said. “Not that one though. That’s really weird.”

Marianne came into the room. “There you are! You were up early today, Isaac,” she said.

“Dad was sleeping on my floor. I think he had a weird dream,” Charlie said.

“Hmmmm,” Marianne said. “Well, let’s have breakfast.”

That night, there was a snowstorm. It snowed six inches in the night and hadn’t stopped when morning came.   Isaac woke once in the night.   Light came in from the streetlight outside, dimly illuminating the dancing snowflakes. He checked Charlie’s closet. The shoes didn’t dance.

He checked again a few nights later when there was moonlight again. The shoes didn’t dance. Did they only dance before big snowstorms? When the moon was a certain size? Once every hundred years? He asked them in a quiet whisper once, but they didn’t answer.

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New Year’s Eve

“Lottie, it’s New Year’s Eve,” Dad said. “We’re going to stay up until midnight!”

“Really?” Lottie asked. Her normal bedtime was eight o’clock. “How late is midnight?”

“Twelve o’clock,” said Mom. “You’ll be staying up four hours extra. Do you think you want to take a little nap now?”

“No. Naps are for babies,” Lottie said. “I can help with the puzzle.”

Lottie helped with the puzzle until it got too boring. She ate chips and watched a movie. At first staying up was exciting. But then she started to feel tired. She yawned.

“You can’t be tired yet, Lottie,” Dad said. “We still have three hours to go.”

“I’m not tired,” Lottie said. She was tired. Her eyes started closing on their own. It got harder and harder to open them and stay awake.

“Don’t go to sleep. You’re almost there. Just a little over two hours, Lottie,” Mom said.

Lottie suddenly felt suspicious. Her parents were always telling her to go to bed.   Why did they want her to stay up now? It didn’t make sense. Maybe these weren’t her real parents.

Lottie felt a little less tired. She needed to find her real parents and rescue them. She started to search the house.

“What are you doing?” Her maybe-not-real-mom asked.

“I’m looking for something,” Lottie said.

“What are you looking for?” Her maybe-not-real-dad asked.

“It’s a secret,” Lottie said.

“Just stay out of our room,” Maybe-not-real-mom said.

Aha! Of course they’d hide her real parents in the one place she normally wouldn’t look. Her real parents wouldn’t mind if she went in their room just this once. They’d want Lottie to save them from the not-real-parents.

Lottie looked in other places until the not-real-parents lost interest.   Then she opened the door and snuck into her parents’ room. She looked under the bed. Boring.   No people. She looked in the closets. Nope. She checked the bathroom. Empty.

Lottie looked out the window. It was too dark to check outside. She carefully closed the bedroom door and went back downstairs. She needed more information.

“What happens at midnight?” Lottie asked.

“It will be a new year,” Maybe-not-real-mom said.

“It’s so much fun, Lottie,” maybe-not-real-dad said. “We’ll bang pots and pans together and yell and make lots of noise!”

“In the middle of the night?” Lottie asked.

“That’s right,” maybe-not-real-dad said.

That confirmed her worst suspicions. These couldn’t be her real parents. They’d never tell her to stay up late and make lots of noise at night.   She wasn’t supposed to bang pots together or yell in the house in the middle of the day.

“Hmmmm,” Lottie said. She tried to look like her normal self. She was feeling tired again, but she didn’t want to fall asleep around the not-real-parents.   She looked around.

She could squeeze in behind the couch. She went to her bedroom and got her blanket and pillow. She started to crawl backwards, pulling them in behind her.

“Lottie, what are you doing?” Not-mom asked.

“I’m going to sleep,” Lottie said.

“But you’ll miss the New Year!” Not-dad said.

“I don’t care. I’m going to sleep now,” Lottie said.

“All right, if you’re sure,” Not-mom said.

She would find her real parents in the morning. They couldn’t be hidden far away. Maybe they’d come back on their own. Maybe the not-parents were going away at midnight, and if she was awake they’d take her too. All the more reason to fall asleep now.

As she drifted off, she heard Not-dad say, “But she’s always wanting to stay up late.”

“Kids are so funny,” Not-mom replied. “Sometimes I wonder what she’s thinking.”

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