The Seagull

The seagull stared from the dark roof into the window. I knew he wanted my chips and curry sauce. I threw him one that fell on the floor last month and he’d been back every day since. 

As I finished lunch and turned my computer back on, he flew in the window and landed on my keyboard. I fell out of my chair. 

“Where’s my chips?” he said. “I thought we had a deal, Yuki? You can’t just feed me once.”

“I’m not feeding you again. That was a one off,” I said. “Buy your own. Out!”

“I see,” he said and flew out the window.

I laughed and told Raj the accountant to keep his window closed at lunch.

At 5pm I walked to the carpark and saw my car was covered in a white carpet of seagulls.

“Shoo! Get out of here,” I said and kicked towards them but none moved.

“Where my chips, Yuki?” a familiar voice said.

I swallowed. 

“Sorry. I’ll leave you some tomorrow.”

“That’s not good enough.”

The seagulls swooped around me, diving with their beaks. I screamed as they ripped my hair and face to pieces. I saw that familiar seagull going for my eyes, but I managed to get my bag open and pulled out my uzi submachine gun I kept just in case and let fire. 

I screamed and screamed as the blood and guts of the birds splattered across the walls and cars. 

I don’t know how much time had past when I stopped, but they were all dead. I got into my car and drove out hearing their bodies crackle under the wheels. 


Yuki Cole was born in Japan, but moved to London as a child. Yuki works as a freelance editor and loves memoirs, Japanese films and novels, and is writing a novel called Miso Seas.

Categories: Fiction

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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