“What are you doing?!” Izzy shrieked when she saw her mother pull the pin used to secure the door to the cages.
“I’m tired of you always running out here after school.” Izzy’s mother swung around, “What are you doing with these birds anyway?” A sob bubbling at her throat, Izzy couldn’t say a word, not even to tell her the birds were for an experiment. From her back pocket, her mother pulled out a folded paper. Izzy took a step back. “Your grades are rotten, you know that?” She waved the report card in Izzy’s face as Izzy stood there, as still as stone.
She wanted to scream at her mother, “It’s none of your business what I do out here. I built this tree house, it’s mine.” But she couldn’t find the strength. All she could think of at that moment were her birds, precious birds, which took her months to accumulate enough allowance to buy.
Her mother carried the cages to the opening. “Shoo!”
“No!” Izzy cried as her birds flew away.
I am participating in Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer, where we write a piece between 100 and 150 words (more or less 25 words) in length inspired by the photo prompt above.