I have only finished a little bit in this piece and seem to have become stuck.
Perhaps some advice after reading what I have so far. I will put some notes at the end in this color as well so it doesn't get mistaken for a part of the story. Also feel free to correct any punctuation errors you may catch in my writing, I need to improve that area anyway.
It is inevitably empty. That birdcage hanging vicariously near the bay window, the thin woven metal bars that provided an encasement for the small creature no longer had any purpose and seemed to sing out in distress against the brittle air that hung with grief. If it was there again it could certainly break that silence, crack that brittle air with the cheerful melody that it so often sang. The door made a creak that seemed to echo eerily throughout the room and Seth was brought in by one of the crude working women that inhabited the small orphanage. He looked up at the cage, his little eyebrows furrowed as he buried his face into his pudgy little hands, his fingers gripping the hair that hung over his forehead. Tears began flowing down his plump red cheeks, his brown eyes and long eyelashes dripping with the salty shame of anguish. Immediately he turned and pointed one fat little finger at the woman who had ushered him into the room.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” His face was of crimson and his mouth held a grimace, gleaming with hatred and anger.
Of course she had not killed the small songbird that had been in the cage just the day before. Seth had forgotten to feed it time and time again, but he could not understand or even fathom that it could ever have been his fault that the bird had fallen from its perch. But the bird had not sung in days, it had only made a small peep every now and then as if trying to identify if it was still alive. Seth hadn’t bothered with the bird for a while; he was busy outside most days, scraping his knees on the gravel driveway from his carelessness while running. Young boys like Seth never did have much of a maternal instinct so you could quite easily say that though the lady manager of the orphanage had good intentions in trying to teach him responsibility through keeping the small bird; it was not a very wise decision.
Seth stepped to the bay window and sat with his knees against his chest on the floor, looking up at the birdcage. The bumps, bruises and cuts on his knees and calves were clear as day in the light that shone in through the window.
Seth thought how sad it was that even when a bird is no longer able to sing, that the world still sees fit to make the sun cheery and bright. The boy wished that it were gloomy and gray, that rain would patter against the roof so that he could feel some sort of solace in his misery as if the world could feel his own pain.
The woman had left the room in a huff, her hands on her hips as she ranted about how disgustingly ill-mannered the youth of the day was, carrying on and on about how in her day he would have had to go out and find the biggest fattest switch to receive a well-deserved beating with. Seth didn’t care, he sat against the wood of the bay window seat and closed his teary blood shot eyes and imagined the small songbird again in the cage, singing on its perch inside the cage, unable to be free. Just like Seth.
My thoughts when writing this were to create this as a sort of backdrop into the personality of Seth and then in further writing confirm it in more depth while he's struggling in a relationship with a girl who is abused by her mother. Naturally the same hopelessness would come out in his personality as it does when he finds that the songbird is dead. I also want to accent a little more on his carelessness and the consequences of it (like when he forgets to feed the songbird) I'm sort of stuck right here though. It's so hard to figure out a good way to start a story. Any thoughts? Also I did indent where needed when writing in the preview box but it didn't show up right when I submitted it...How do I fix that?
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