Winged Memories
The Golden Ostrich

disclaimer: I do not own Roger Smith or anyone else from the Big O...otherwise you'd have to arrest me for slavery, and that would not be fun. However, Mrs. Rockefeller and Sunny are appropriately copyrighted to me.
"Your pet parrot, ma'am?"

"Yes…poor Sunny went missing yesterday morning and I haven't seen a trace of him since."

"You think he was…kidnapped?"

"Oh yes…he has very valuable memories, you know."

"Memories?"

"Parrots can live for a long time, Mr. Smith. I believe he was with me before the Event…when I found myself in this new world, he was perched on my shoulder as always. He's the only creature who knows about my past."

"But what makes you so certain Sunny was kidnapped?"

Mrs. Rockefeller holds out a handful of blue feathers to me. "I found these in the parlor, next to his cage…it's not molting season, so the only reasonable explanation is there was a struggle to remove him."

"Did you hear anything the night he disappeared?"

"These old ears aren't what they used to be," she sighs. "The parlor is down the hall from my bedroom, but I slept soundly through whatever happened."

"I see…do you have any idea who might want him?"

"No, although there was something lying in with the feathers." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a length of tattered bandage. My shoulders stiffen.

"Did Sunny know how to talk?"

"Of course!" she said proudly. "He was very intelligent…it was almost like speaking to a human, he was so articulate."

"Did he ever say anything about what happened forty years ago?"

"No, but I suspect he knows…whenever that black MegaDeus would rise up from the ground, he'd fly away to some dark corner of my home until it disappeared again."

"I'll do my best to find him for you, Mrs. Rockefeller."

"Thank you…I'm sure you will."

"Mrs. Rockefeller seems a bit eccentric," said Dorothy on the way home.

"How do you mean?"

"To say that her parrot is her past is illogical."

"Not necessarily. The elderly are the one who most regret to loss of their memories. Sunny is possibly the last link to her youth," I explained.

"I too contain memories from forty years ago, but they're still inaccessible."

"People cling to things, tangible or otherwise."

"You don't, Roger."

"I don't like to concern myself with memories. They lead to unhappiness."

"Like Mrs. Rockefeller losing Sunny?"

"Yes," I said. "Those memories locked inside that bird are causing her great pain now."

author's note: the beginning's a bit slow...trying to set the stage for the rest of the story. . It'll pick up in the next chapter.