How Do Birds In The Sky Indicate Weather Changes?

My husband, Gabriel Buckner, and I had been married for three years. I'd gotten pregnant twice, but I'd lost both babies. It was all because of my in-laws' parrot that could talk. The first time I got pregnant and went to their house, the parrot stared at my belly and kept repeating, "Get rid of the baby! Get rid of the baby!" The second time, the same thing happened. It looked right at my stomach and said the same words. I thought it was just nonsense, but to my shock, my in-laws actually took the parrot seriously and forced me to end the pregnancy. I even showed them the prenatal checkup report from my doctor to prove that the baby was perfectly healthy and begged them not to do it. But they dragged me to the hospital anyway and made me have an abortion on the spot. When I got pregnant a third time, I wanted to be extra cautious. I went straight for an amniocentesis. The report confirmed the baby was healthy and even showed a 99.9% DNA match with Gabriel's. I thought everything would be fine this time. But as soon as the parrot saw me again, it repeated the same words—"Get rid of the baby." And just like before, the Buckners immediately tried to drag me to the hospital. I couldn't understand it. The baby was perfectly healthy, and the DNA report proved it was Gabriel's child. So why would they rather believe a parrot and insist that I get rid of the baby?

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

I had a mild hearing impairment, which left me mostly deaf in my right ear. Growing up, Tristan Lockhart always made it a point to stand on my right side. "That way, if anyone tries to talk behind your back, I'll be the first to hear it," he used to tell me. Eventually, we got engaged, and the wedding invitations were already printed and ready to go. Everyone around us kept saying how incredibly blessed I was to have a childhood sweetheart who had spent over a decade shielding me from the world. That was until Sunny Pierce joined Tristan’s company. She was stunning, vibrant, and always spoke with a radiant smile plastered across her face. The very first time she met me, she stared intently at my hearing aid for a long moment before turning to Tristan with a playful laugh. "With her like that, can she even hear you whisper sweet nothings in her ear at night?" My face drained of all color, but Tristan merely furrowed his brow slightly. "Sunny just speaks before she thinks. Don't take it to heart." On the day of our wedding rehearsal. I stood right outside the heavy chapel doors, listening to Sunny mockingly read my vows aloud. "Thank you for tolerating me as your constant complication for over a decade. I promise to be your comfort, your constant shadow, and your favorite complication for the rest of my life." The entire room erupted into a chorus of laughter, and Tristan let out a soft chuckle along with them. "Stop messing around," he said, his voice carrying a light laugh. "If she overhears you changing the words, she's going to get upset again." Sunny paused, her tone turning playful. "Are you seriously still going to marry her, then?" Tristan fell completely silent for two long seconds. "The invitations have already been sent out," he finally replied, his voice flat. "What else am I supposed to do at this point?" I stood frozen at the very end of the corridor. The umbrella he had once gifted me was still dripping rainwater onto the tile floor. But suddenly, I had absolutely no desire to walk through those doors.

Ilyria Agrio, is the beautiful and headstrong daughter of the most powerful woman in the desert city of Idixat. The night before her arranged marriage to her mother’s business partner, she witnesses him brutally murder her close friend using a strange and unnatural magic. When her mother refuses to believe her, she runs away, determined to seek justice with the Mogul, the benevolent ruler of Idixat. The streets of Idixat can be a cruel place though, especially with the Mogul missing since the last Twin Moon. Ilyria finds shelter with Madame Skia and her companions--but there is a catch. She discovers her own magic--but not how to control it. It is her encounter with the mysterious winged man, the Lightning Bird that truly changes her destiny. But can she trust her own heart? To follow her destiny and find justice, Ilyria must learn to trust her own strength.

When all life suddenly changes, everything we have known so far turns out to be a big lie. They were like machines, puppets obeying orders. Devoid of the past. Without families, without friends, without identities. Their free will was taken away, they were forbidden to make their own decisions. They weren't even left with names - instead, they were marked with numbers. Their eyes were empty and their gazes cold as ice. Ruthless, brutal, merciless. Free of remorse, stripped of emotions and feelings. On her way home, Alex witnesses a gruesome event. She sees a group of people whose bodies are burning alive. In the middle stands an unknown boy wielding a deadly fire. The incident is so monstrous and inexplicable that the girl wonders if they are hallucinations or a product of her exuberant imagination. This theory quickly falls apart when, the next day, Alex comes face to face with the mysterious boy from the woods…

For our graduation trip, the three of us traveled to Iceland to watch the aurora borealis. During the trek, my best friend Chloe Bennett’s scarf was swept away by the howling wind. Without a second thought, my boyfriend Valen Vance stripped off his own heavy scarf and wrapped her up tight in it. Turning to me, he said, “Hurry up and help Chloe fetch it. You know that’s her favorite scarf.” I braved the biting, freezing wind alone, chasing it for a long time. By the time I finally retrieved the scarf and turned around, the northern lights had already vanished from the sky—and Valen and Chloe were no longer where I left them. My phone buzzed with a text from him: “You were taking too long. Chloe is afraid of the cold, so I brought her back to the hotel first.” Stranded in a foreign country, I stood at the crossroad for six grueling hours, waving down over twenty passing cars. Finally, someone took pity on me and gave me a ride. When I stumbled back into the hotel well past midnight, shivering and entirely frozen to the bone, I found them curled up under a thick blanket, huddled close together as they looked over the photos they had taken that day. They were laughing and chatting about photography and the northern lights—a conversation I was permanently locked out of. Noticing me, Valen merely frowned. “What took you so long? I made a mug of hot tea for you over there. Go warm yourself up.” I wrapped my numb fingers around the mug. The tea inside had gone ice-cold hours ago. At that moment, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion settled deep into my chest. Fine, then. I booked the earliest flight out, canceled the rest of our hotel reservations, and decided right then to leave. The northern lights I spent a lifetime chasing were never meant for me. There was no need to chase them anymore.