inside and closed the door, locking it.
He stood in the centre of the living room, staring at the empty fireplace that he planned to fill with firewood over the coming months as autumn merged into winter. A memory of sitting around a campfire with friends intruded on his mind. Friends. Most were long gone now. Here he was, in a new town, starting all over again like a kid in a new school. But he wasnât ready to make friends. In time, perhaps. He knew he couldnât continue this way forever, but for now, solitude was his best mate.
Zac glanced at his laptop charging in the corner on the floor. As it often did, inspiration hit him unexpectedly, so he sat on the floor and opened his computer. He clicked the web browser and opened his anonymous blog: Winning The War Within .
Words formed in his mind and he typed quickly:
             BIRD IN A CAGE
             I know I should be living out there
             Interacting and doing my share
             But itâs easier somehow to go it alone
             No one around, no ringing phone.
             Sometimes I get a glimpse of an alternate life
             Iâd have a job and friends, maybe even a wife
             But as fast as the glimpse appears it dissolves
             And I return to the words around which my life now revolves.
             The words they are comfort, companion, and friend
             They make sense of the chaos, the grief they mend
             But I know these words must come to life; be born
             To give flight to the bird, its cage must be torn.
He read through it a couple of times then clicked âpublishâ. The last line lingered in his mind â¦
One day he would fly again, metaphorically speaking. He didnât know when, he didnât know how. But he hopedâ wished âthat somehow he would find the strength to tear down the bars of his cage and set himself free.
Chapter 3
âDonât forget to make a wish! Ready?â Olivia placed the cake on Aprilâs outdoor table, her hand creating a curved barrier between the flaming candles and the night air.
âHa! Iâve actually made ant i-wishes,â April replied.
âAnti-wishes? What kind of weirdo are you?â said Zoe, one of her oldest friendsâsheâd known her since primary school.
âTakes one to know one.â April winked, and Zoe blew her an air kiss. The happiness of their friendship was directly proportional to the severity of their fake insults.
âWell, whatever you want to wish for or not wish for, get ready, time to sing happy birthday!â Olivia was used to running birthday parties, having had eight years of experience with her daughter, Mia. April wouldnât be surprised if she whipped out a game of pass the parcel or pin the tail on the donkey. Or maybe sheâd broken with tradition and hired a surprise stripper. That would be one hell of a way to welcome the new neighbour to the street, trying to sleep to the sounds of tipsy women laughing and talking loudly over hyped-up music and watching the shadow of a gyrating muscular male through the living room window.
Nancy next door would probably like it though. She might even join the party.
But no, she was sure Olivia hadnât planned such a surprise. And her cousin, Lisa, who sat demurely opposite her, holding her wine glass with her careful, dainty fingers, was more of a quiet, reserved type.
Zoe snapped a
He stood in the centre of the living room, staring at the empty fireplace that he planned to fill with firewood over the coming months as autumn merged into winter. A memory of sitting around a campfire with friends intruded on his mind. Friends. Most were long gone now. Here he was, in a new town, starting all over again like a kid in a new school. But he wasnât ready to make friends. In time, perhaps. He knew he couldnât continue this way forever, but for now, solitude was his best mate.
Zac glanced at his laptop charging in the corner on the floor. As it often did, inspiration hit him unexpectedly, so he sat on the floor and opened his computer. He clicked the web browser and opened his anonymous blog: Winning The War Within .
Words formed in his mind and he typed quickly:
             BIRD IN A CAGE
             I know I should be living out there
             Interacting and doing my share
             But itâs easier somehow to go it alone
             No one around, no ringing phone.
             Sometimes I get a glimpse of an alternate life
             Iâd have a job and friends, maybe even a wife
             But as fast as the glimpse appears it dissolves
             And I return to the words around which my life now revolves.
             The words they are comfort, companion, and friend
             They make sense of the chaos, the grief they mend
             But I know these words must come to life; be born
             To give flight to the bird, its cage must be torn.
He read through it a couple of times then clicked âpublishâ. The last line lingered in his mind â¦
One day he would fly again, metaphorically speaking. He didnât know when, he didnât know how. But he hopedâ wished âthat somehow he would find the strength to tear down the bars of his cage and set himself free.
Chapter 3
âDonât forget to make a wish! Ready?â Olivia placed the cake on Aprilâs outdoor table, her hand creating a curved barrier between the flaming candles and the night air.
âHa! Iâve actually made ant i-wishes,â April replied.
âAnti-wishes? What kind of weirdo are you?â said Zoe, one of her oldest friendsâsheâd known her since primary school.
âTakes one to know one.â April winked, and Zoe blew her an air kiss. The happiness of their friendship was directly proportional to the severity of their fake insults.
âWell, whatever you want to wish for or not wish for, get ready, time to sing happy birthday!â Olivia was used to running birthday parties, having had eight years of experience with her daughter, Mia. April wouldnât be surprised if she whipped out a game of pass the parcel or pin the tail on the donkey. Or maybe sheâd broken with tradition and hired a surprise stripper. That would be one hell of a way to welcome the new neighbour to the street, trying to sleep to the sounds of tipsy women laughing and talking loudly over hyped-up music and watching the shadow of a gyrating muscular male through the living room window.
Nancy next door would probably like it though. She might even join the party.
But no, she was sure Olivia hadnât planned such a surprise. And her cousin, Lisa, who sat demurely opposite her, holding her wine glass with her careful, dainty fingers, was more of a quiet, reserved type.
Zoe snapped a
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