So, remember that creepy bird I thought was a ghost? The one with the uncanny ability to mimic voices and scare me half to death? Well, it came back. Again. And this time, I’ve decided to name it.
Meet Geoffrey. Yes, Geoffrey. I have no idea if it’s a male or not, but it feels wrong to just keep calling it “the bird,” so Geoffrey it is. It seems fitting for a creature that struts around the tower like it owns the place.
The first time Geoffrey came back, I was reading in the library, minding my own business. Blizzard was curled up by the fire, snoring softly, when suddenly—
“Hello!”
I froze, clutching my book a little tighter. Blizzard, who had been so peacefully asleep, snapped awake, her fur bristling as she whipped her head around.
“Hello!” Geoffrey repeated, his voice somehow managing to sound both polite and smug.
I glanced toward the window and, sure enough, there he was—perched on the windowsill like he’d been invited. His black feathers gleamed in the firelight, and his beady eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Geoffrey,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “you need to stop sneaking up on me like that.”
“Geoffrey,” he mimicked back, fluffing his feathers.
“Yeah, that’s your name now. Congratulations,” I muttered, setting my book down.
Blizzard growled softly, her icy blue eyes locked on Geoffrey. She didn’t pounce this time, though—I think she’s realized that Geoffrey isn’t worth the effort.
Since that first visit, Geoffrey has decided that the tower is his new favorite hangout spot. He doesn’t come every day, but when he does, it’s always with a flair for the dramatic. He swoops in through a window, caws loudly to announce his presence, and then proceeds to perch somewhere inconvenient.
Last time, it was on the chandelier in the dining hall. He sat there, swaying slightly, while I tried to eat breakfast. Every few minutes, he’d croak out a random word he’d picked up—“Pancakes!” “Blizzard!” “No!”—and then cackle like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Blizzard, to her credit, mostly ignores him now. She just gives him an exasperated look and goes back to whatever she was doing. I wish I could say the same for myself.
Despite his habit of being a general nuisance, I can’t help but be a little fascinated by Geoffrey. Where did he come from? How did he learn to mimic voices so well? And why does he seem so interested in the tower?
Sometimes I catch him watching me with an intensity that feels… weirdly human. Like he’s studying me, trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. Other times, he just sits there preening his feathers, completely uninterested in anything but himself.
I tried offering him some breadcrumbs once, thinking maybe he was hungry. He just stared at them like they were beneath him, then hopped onto the table and cawed loudly in my face. I took that as a “no, thank you.”
I’m convinced the tower has some kind of opinion about Geoffrey, though I can’t quite figure out what it is.
One day, after Geoffrey had spent the morning squawking at me from the rafters, the tower decided to shut all the windows at once. Geoffrey, of course, was still inside. He cawed indignantly, flapping his wings as he tried to figure out how to get out. I’ll admit, I laughed a little as he paced along the windowsill, muttering “No! No!” like it was the tower’s fault he’d overstayed his welcome.
Eventually, I opened a window and let him out. He gave me a look that I can only describe as offended, then flew off without a word.
As annoying as Geoffrey can be, I think I’ve grown fond of him. He’s strange, loud, and possibly a little too smart for his own good, but there’s something endearing about his antics.
Plus, he keeps things interesting. Life in the tower can get lonely sometimes, and even though Geoffrey’s company isn’t exactly pleasant, it’s better than nothing.
So, Geoffrey, if you’re reading this somehow (which wouldn’t surprise me at this point), welcome to the tower. Just… try not to scare me next time, okay?
And maybe stop stealing my breakfast.
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