In Love With an Aven
You take the Aven back to your apartment and pull up several pages of information on Atlantic islands. The Aven stands over your shoulder watching pictures flip by. “There!” He finally stops you. “That’s my island!”
“That’s Strangers Island.” You tell him, pulling up flight times. The island doesn’t have an airport but you can fly to a nearby island.
You book tickets for next week, unsurprisingly no one wants to fly to some tiny island in the Atlantic, and he stays in your spare bedroom. A week later you step into the terminal with the Aven by your side. His wings are hidden inside of one of your old hiking bags. “How can you trust this huge metal bird not to fall out of the sky?” He asks as the plane takes off. An elderly man in the next aisle over gives you a sideways glance.
“I’m not sure.” You respond, “It just doesn’t.”
“That’s a lot of trust.” He responds.
You simply shrug, unsure of how to respond.
When the plane finally lands you discover an old fishing boat tied to the dock. You wait for the owner to arrive and he kindly agrees to transport you to Strangers Island.
Aven is giddy with excitement by the time the boat lands on shore. We quickly cross into the jungle only to be greeted by silence. “Usually Aven are flying through the canopy and mingling even late into the night!” He tells you. “So where are my people?”
He takes you too his nest, a treehouse-like structure nestled between branches.
You enter only to find a completely empty home. He stares at the silent home, his eyes filling with tears. “It will be okay.” You lean against him. “It will all be okay. Come home with me and you can start over.”
“We were expecting another brood.” He whispers quietly to himself.”
“She’s gone.” I tell him, flinching at how selfishly heartless I am. “They’re all gone. But I’m here for you.” He doesn’t object as I kiss his cheek and take his hand, leading him to a new life - a better life - with me at his side.
“That’s Strangers Island.” You tell him, pulling up flight times. The island doesn’t have an airport but you can fly to a nearby island.
You book tickets for next week, unsurprisingly no one wants to fly to some tiny island in the Atlantic, and he stays in your spare bedroom. A week later you step into the terminal with the Aven by your side. His wings are hidden inside of one of your old hiking bags. “How can you trust this huge metal bird not to fall out of the sky?” He asks as the plane takes off. An elderly man in the next aisle over gives you a sideways glance.
“I’m not sure.” You respond, “It just doesn’t.”
“That’s a lot of trust.” He responds.
You simply shrug, unsure of how to respond.
When the plane finally lands you discover an old fishing boat tied to the dock. You wait for the owner to arrive and he kindly agrees to transport you to Strangers Island.
Aven is giddy with excitement by the time the boat lands on shore. We quickly cross into the jungle only to be greeted by silence. “Usually Aven are flying through the canopy and mingling even late into the night!” He tells you. “So where are my people?”
He takes you too his nest, a treehouse-like structure nestled between branches.
You enter only to find a completely empty home. He stares at the silent home, his eyes filling with tears. “It will be okay.” You lean against him. “It will all be okay. Come home with me and you can start over.”
“We were expecting another brood.” He whispers quietly to himself.”
“She’s gone.” I tell him, flinching at how selfishly heartless I am. “They’re all gone. But I’m here for you.” He doesn’t object as I kiss his cheek and take his hand, leading him to a new life - a better life - with me at his side.
