A rustling in the darkness.  Sam was half way between the inner and outer worlds.  A fumbling.  Was he asleep, or was he awake?

Suddenly, he was awake.  Where was he?  A box.  No, a cage.  A prison.  He dragged his head from this way to that, searching for an answer.  Around his walled apartment, a black cloak.  As he stared into it’s inky blackness, it flicked up and fluttered from time to time.  Occasionally, he saw glimpses of people in suits, but little else.

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Clouds over Amsterdamse Bos, Amsterdam, HollandSam’s tiny brain was exploding out of its tiny cranium.

“Kater! Kater!” screamed his brothers and sisters.  Who would have thought that Cygnets could experience such a thing.  Sam tried to drink lots of water, which was easy, because he was floating on the stuff.  It seemed to help some, but not quite enough.  His head was pounding and for some reason his beak hurt, which was something that Sam did not relish.  Beak injuries were nasty business in the avian world.

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“Awww yeah!” said Sam, jumping out of his watery bed.  “I’ll have a wicked sick pond party and comp everyone some sweet as worms.”  Sam wondered if sourcing some bacon for his fellow pond peeps would score him some nice karma points.  He rallied his duckling army.

Swan Ducklings in Beatrix Park, Amsterdam“Boys, girls, tonight we party,” he said.

“Why?” said his brother Peter.

“Because dude, that’s what people, uh, swans do!  All we do is fish around, looking for worms, eating a bit of grass, getting some handouts.  Mate, we are BUMS!  We need to do something!”

“Like what?” said his sister Rie. Read the rest of this entry »

The next morning, Alignment of Swans and Cygnets in Beatrix Park, AmsterdamSam considered his options.  There were few…. Read the rest of this entry »

Weeks passed.  Sam began to grow accustomed to his new routine.  Sleep.  Forage for food.  Try to learn Dutch.  And so on.  One day, however, was different.  As Sam was busy collecting bits of day old bread from a dude in the park, the dude began to speak.  He was talking to himself mostly, but occasionally directed parts of the conversation to Sam, but not in any really meaningful way. Read the rest of this entry »

How long had it been?  Days?  Weeks?  Sam could no longer remember.  But he thought that he had worked out the story thus far.  One moment, he was a a 24 year old Australian male in the prime of his life.  The next, a furball floating in filth, eating handouts from the local old guy and an occasional group of kids.

Sam sniffed at a piece of grass.  Or was it pecked? He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, what senses he had.  He just knew that he was hungry and the kids that usually showed up in the park wouldn’t be around for days.  Probably a weekend thing.  They had the best stuff; at least it was something he could eat.  Something human.  His “mother” had offered him a grisly worm at some point, which he had initially rejected, but after getting told off (his mother sure could hiss) he had a nibble.  If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if it was an oyster.  Which he would have enjoyed, if he’d ever enjoyed oysters.  Now, only if he could find some bacon… Read the rest of this entry »