The servant led her from the main part of the house to an unused portion, where it was so cold that ice slicked the floors and the freak had to be careful not to slip. Finally, when the freak could see her breath mist up in front of her, the servant stopped and flung open the door.
“This is your new room.”
The freak blinked.
It was gray and dingy with only a bed, a small pot, and a tiny wood stove in the corner. The bed had no sheets and mouse droppings covered the mattress. A quick look over the room told the freak where the mouse was--off in the corner, a frozen mouse carcass lay, quite undisturbed.
The freak had discovered it quite by accident. She was given instructions to clean a room in the east wing, but as she walked there, she missed a turn and got lost. She was retracing her steps when she saw a giant spider web.
After some looking, the freak spotted the spider up towards the ceiling, resting on the silvery strands. “Are you looking for food?” the freak asked, her voice harsh from disuse. When the spider ignored her, she said, “Well, there is no food. You should go.”
The spider considered her for a long moment with beady black eyes and then dropped down, landing on the hard tiled floor. Glancing back at the freak, it scuttled around the corner.
She followed.
Just as she caught up with the spider, it disappeared under a large door. She glanced up. On the front of the door in peeling letters were the words, “Banned Art.” The door looked like it had been locked once a long time ago, but now an iron key rusted in the keyhole.
“Silly spider,” she murmured to the door. After checking the hall for the menservants, the freak set down her bucket, full of cleaning supplies, and tested the door.
It swung open.
Carefully, she slipped the key in her pocket and looked through the room. Though the walls were painted white, they were cluttered with abstract paintings featuring strange combinations of purples and pinks and greens, all twisted together in lovely shapes that reminded her of dancing flowers. And, in the middle of the room, trapped in a cage of silvery spider webs, was the bird.
It wasn’t like any bird the freak had had seen before. Instead of being small and demure, like the finches and sparrows that had once perched on her fingers, this one was large with a sharp beak and long spindly talons. Every barb could be seen in its outstretched wings and the statue wasn't white either; it was made of black marble, speckled with silver metallic flakes. And its eyes were made of silver, a tiny piece of onyx put in for the pupil.
She fell in love with it immediately.
She couldn’t come and visit the bird very much, but it appeared in her dreams many times, rescuing her from endless fields of dancing white statues and red carnations. And she would fly, resting on its back, surrounded by lovely blue skies and antique airplanes.