He loved the birds.
Robins, finches, dippers, tits.
Although he despised the gulls, blow-in urban intruders. “Bleedin’ vermin! They’ll be the death of me.”
An ornithologist, not a twitcher. Twitching’s what the bleedin’ neighbours did.
Twitch, twitch, twitch.
He felt their beady eyes scrutinise as he filled the birdfeeders. The Parkinson’s made it a hit-and-miss affair.
Twitch, twitch, twitch.
The gulls wheeled, depositing guano.
Every Thursday the wife drove him to see his neurologist.
Always running late.
Always driving too fast.
“Duck!” he yelled, as a seagull crashed through the windscreen. The car twitched into a hedge, scattering the sparrows. It was the last thing he saw.
FlashFlood is brought to you by National Flash-Fiction Day UK, happening this year on 27th June 2015.
In the build up to the day we have now launched our Micro-Fiction Competition (stories up to 100 words) and also our annual Anthology (stories up to 500 words). So if you have enjoyed FlashFlood, why not send us your stories?
More information about these and the Day itself available at nationalflashfictionday.co.uk. 
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