Pigeon, Mystic

At the exact same moment that she came a pigeon landed in the skylight. She stared at it with her fingers still pressed up against her pulsing self and wondered if it was a sign. She had been in the habit of looking for signs since her father died, and the synchronicity of this moment was certainly noticeable, if nothing else.

She didn’t really want the pigeon to be a sign, because she didn’t know what is was supposed to mean. That it had arrived at the exact moment of her climax seemed to create more questions then it answered. She lay there on the white bedspread of her partners parents guestroom, of which they were the guests at present and tried to understand what it might mean. She looked at the pigeon in the skylight. It stood on the sill of the glass, and appeared to be looking right at her. But for all she knew, the pigeon was only looking at itself. Are you magic, she asked it aloud. The pigeon made no motion to suggest it understood. It said nothing, or nothing that she could hear through the glass.

It didn’t seem like a good sort of magic. Luckily, she supposed, it didn’t seem like the wrong sort either, neither sinister or evil. There was no ready supply of hot shame ready to make masturbation feel like that for her. She didn’t have enough shame to stop her from masturbating on the spare bed of her partners parents, (though she did have enough to close the blinds). It felt, if magic, like a sort of lethargic magic, not quite able to deliver a white dove and not committed enough to send a crow.

Can magic be middle of the road and also sexual? Probably. Probably yes, and thats how babies get made every day.

She sighed, and decided to ignore the sign. She watched the bird as it flew away.

Her guardian angel sighed inwardly, and returned the body of the pigeon back to the slightly confused bird from which they had borrowed it. They wondered, drifting formlessly through the sky, slightly perturbed, how to convince a human woman that her pleasure was divine and to encourage her to create more of it. Maybe next time, they ought to take the form of a cat instead.