Menolyrical - Final Friday fiction.

THE DUNGLOOM GULLS.

Gelly Gull gripped firmly the rough tile surface on the roof. The sky had begun to look like it was sinking to the earth, it was such a leaden colour.

The wind was fierce and if he didn't grip hard, there was a risk of being blown off.

Where was Gally? She had been his mate these past thirty years. His first mate, Ginty, had proven to be not so good at the egg-rearing task. Too many unhatchlings. They agreed to look for different partners. Gelly had missed a year of mating. He wanted a lady who would last, who would nurture their young, with his help, and who would be happy with his company on the occasions they didn't have to thinK about hunt and feed. Which, admittedly, were rare. At nearly forty years of life, Gelly knew that there could only be a few left to him.

He looked up at the dropping sky to see if he could see Gally. Many gulls were up on the strong currents coming off the hillsides and along the open water. No rain, despite the looks of the sky, which meant all with wings could play and exercise to their hearts' content.

He turned around - oh there ... floating majestically like the matriarch of Gulldom that she was. "I won myself a beauty!" thought Gelly.

His partner spotted Gelly and came down to stand with him.

"Are you tired, ancient one?" she teased.

"Actually, yes," Gelly responded, "... well no, not really; but it has been a while since we practiced quite this much in one session!"

"True, my dear."

Gelly looked again at the surrounding sky. "What do you make of it Sweetwings? Will it finally fall? Are we to mark the end of our days in this one itself?"

Gally, turning around to survey the scene, fluttered her wings slightly. "That is rather dooministic of you Gelly. What's going on with you? This place where we live has many dark skies."

"Yes, but something today is darker, heavier..." Gelly dropped his head, pensive, exuding anxiety. Gally became concerned. She knew her partner was getting to the top end of his years, but surely not yet? She had a few good breeding years left in her and she wanted them to be with Gelly. There was no other gull for her.

He had been magnificent, a fine figure of gull-hood; a fantastic provider of food; a joyful builder of nests and all their hatchlings had learned from the best of fliers. Surely there was flight left in the old bird yet?

Gelly and Gally, felt a rush of air different from that of the wind.  It was Gamun, one of their older hatchlings - a great father in his own right now - 'buzzing' them as once Gelly had done to him.

"Hey parents, have you given up on the fly-games then? Getting too stiff in the pinnas?!" Gamun turned a full one-eighty just at the tip of the next tree and rushed back down the stream at his parents. He taunted them again, in a soft and loving way, to come join him. "I reckon you can't beat me any more dad - it's my turn to rule the currents here!"

That was all Gelly needed. He could feel the rush of blood and before he knew it his wings had stretched and he was away again. Up, up, up. The further up he went, the further the sky went with him. No, it wasn't falling yet. Neither was he.