New Flash Fiction: Sedonuts and Feathers by Gary Every

We welcome back another regular Grievous Angel contributor: Arizona-based Gary Every, with a tale of everyday life, weirdness and feathers in Sedona. Gary's work has been previously published in Tales of the Talisman, Dreams and Nightmares, Mythic Delirium and many others including five nominations for the Rhysling Award for Year's Best Science Fiction Poetry.


Sedonuts and Feathers
​by Gary Every
 
I realized I had really moved to beautiful, eccentric Sedona at the intersection of Harmony and Moonglow streets, looking for a trailhead that began at the end of Little Elf Drive. I was full moon hiking with Dale and we parked just as the last daylight faded. 

A small group of people approached. They were wearing orange robes, carrying drums, had feathers in their hair, and were wearing face paint. In Sedona such gatherings of furry freaky people are not unusual. Dale and I did not give the robe wearing, drum carrying Sedonuts another thought. We stomped into the forest, the glorious moon already rising high. The Sedonuts chattered among themselves. 

“Did you see that?” one whispered. “They are just now starting their hike.”

“Won’t they get lost in the dark?” wailed another.

One of the Sedonuts, who was carrying a bigger drum, and with more feathers in his hair, (the head Sedonut), commented. “They must be hiking under the moon.”

“How magical!” said the first.

“I wish I could do that.” Cried the wailer.

As we entered the forest Dale noticed. “Those people were wearing robes, feathers, and face paint but they thought we were the crazy ones.”

“You mean in their eyes – we are the Sedonuts?!”
 
* * * * *
​
We hiked into a box canyon. As the canyon walls closed in the shaft of moonbeams no longer penetrated. The shadows became darker, more encompassing. There was an explosion of wind as a burst of feathers spread out from the shadows into impossibly wide wings. A large bird flew directly at my head with talons extended. I screamed and ducked as the owl flew over my head. My shrieking echoes continued long after the owl had fled.

Dale laughed.

Then I saw a black and white striped owl feather. After the hike was over, I placed my new feather in my automobile dashboard, beside the other feathers, nestled in snugly besides a battered blue jay feather and a beautiful bronze colored plume.

“What is the brown feather from?” Dale asked.
“A turkey,” I replied. “They are like the ghosts of Sedona.  I keep finding the feathers but I have yet to glimpse one here. All these crazy Sedonuts searching the valley for UFOs should try and find a wild turkey. That is one elusive mythical beast.”
 
* * * * *

The next morning I was standing in line at the local store buying gas when a voice blurted out “I love your feathers.”

I turned around to face a beautiful woman with wild hair and gypsy hippy clothing. “Where do you find them?” She asked. “I am looking for an eagle or hawk feather.”
I warned her. “It is a federal felony to pick up the feathers of birds protected by the migratory bird act.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed.

“If you want you can take one of mine.”

She followed me to my car and leaned her fine feminine form inside, clothes shifting to reveal glimpses of scandalous tattoos. She closed her eyes and held her hand over each feather in turn.

“I am trying to feel their aura.”

Her hand lingered over some feathers more than others.  She snagged the bronze colored feather.

She hugged me enthusiastically. “Thank you so much. I have been asking the earth mother for a feather for the longest time.”

During my long life I have been called many things but that was the first time I have ever been called an earth mother. 

She bounced away with her feather, “I am building a wand.”

I did not have the heart to tell her she had not selected an eagle or hawk but had grabbed the turkey feather.  

I buy gas somewhere else now and always keep a wary eye at coffee shops. Perhaps she blames me for her miscast magic, searching Sedona seeking vengeance. When she sees me, she will use her homemade wand to turn me in to a toad. Except, because she is using the wrong kind of feather, her spell will go awry. Instead of a toad, maybe she will accidentally turn me into a salamander or a giraffe or heaven forbid…. a platypus.