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My Little Robin
by David Colt (walterromans@yahoo.com)

***

A love story about a young man who studies birds, and 
fall in love with a girl. look i cant do the story justice 
by summarizing it, just saying it's one of my best works. 
it's set in 1950's and is told in journal format. (Mf,
ped, rom)

***

The book was old. It was bound in a now faded leather
that hinted at the color black. It had several tears in
it's cover that had been stitched shut, some with
professional procession and some were rough and untrained.
The wear and tear the tome exhibited could not even begin
to tell the tale that lay inside it's pages.

If it were to be opened one would find the paper musty,
stiff, and yellowed with age. Some of the pages seem to
have been torn out leaving only short ragged stubs to
testify to their existence. Inside the worn cover of the
old book was a short paragraph of small tightly written
script pinned in black ink that had long since faded to
blue, it reads.

“To my Robin, my lover, my wife, my soul. You are
what kept me going all these years. Yours forever Edward.”


May 19, 1954

I have not been this excited since I was a child on
Christmas morning. My name is Edward Blanton, I am twenty
years old, and I am a ornithologist. That is a bird
scientist. I follow birds, watch birds, I love birds, birds
are my passion. I will record all of my findings in this
journal for posterity, but first I need to explain the
adventure I am currently on.

You see there is a little known rare species of bird
called the Blue Pope. It is a small bird close cousin to
the finch but has a interesting blue coloration that makes
it unique. It nests in southern Mexico during the winter
months, but no one knows where they go for the summer. The
Blue Pope has one other strange quality about it that makes
it special. In the small southern town where the birds nest
for half the year, it is the only place in Mexico where you
can find Pope Berries. The berries are not native to the
area and they seem to only begin sprouting when the birds
appear every season. This has lead me to believe that the
two are tied together somehow.

So no one knows where these strange little birds go for
the summer, no one except me. I found out where they have
been hiding, on my grandfathers land in Montana. I found
this out several months ago when I was going through some
of my grandfathers old books and found a sprig of Pope
Berries pressed between the pages of one large tomes. When
I asked my mother about it she told me it was from the
cabin her father owned in the mountains, and that these
plants grew wild there. It is a chunk of land closed off in
a hidden valley that you had to have a plane to get to.
Unless you were willing to hike the two days it took to get
to the old cabin and that was a long trip over rough
ground.

So here I am on a train to Montanan with my last
seventy five bucks in my pocket. I hope that my guess is
correct and I find my little birds there.


May 21, 1954

I have walked for the last two days and have finally
reached the edge of the valley. I am sitting on the rim of
what I can only assume is a old volcano bowl. There is a
sizable lake at the very bottom of the crater that I was
told has fish in it and a short distance from the lake is a
building I am assuming is my grandfathers cabin. The whole
valley is dotted with lichen covered rocks and boulder that
seem to grow up in and amongst the plant life here. The
whole valley can be no more than a few miles across, and I
was hard pressed to find it on any map. It has no name so I
was thinking about calling it Edward Valley. I am so
tired. I am not use to all this exercise, but the view is
worth it.

This place is so quiet yet so alive with wonders. The
land has a beauty that is almost beyond description, I am
in awe that such a place even exists. The way the greens
and browns merge seamlessly into the azure blue of the sky
just takes my breath away. I am sitting watching a moose or
a large deer further along the valley rim grazing on the
small green scrubby bushes that seem to grow everywhere
here. When I examined the bushes I found the little white
bubs of the Pope Berry almost ready to bloom on all of
them. This has to be the place.

My Grandfather bought this land from the railroad back
in 1898 and lived on it for ten years till he moved to New
York in 1911 with his wife and daughter. Since then the
valley has remained isolated far beyond the reach of
civilized man. As far as I can tell no one has been back
here to visit, until today.

If my suspicions are correct I have only a few short
days before my bird will arrive, so I need to quickly get
ready for them. I have brought several instant cameras with
me so I can document my findings. They are a marvelous
invention that can take a picture instantly without the
need for a lab to process the film. Hopefully they have not
been damaged in the long trip here, they cost me almost
twenty dollars each.

Well I have a few hours of walking ahead of me, so here
I go.


May 22, 1954

I will try to write as much as I can. My arm is stiff
and it is hard to move where she has stabbed me.
When I came down the hill to the cabin I was surprised
to find that it was actually a lodge size building. It is
two story's tall with a ancient look about it, it has
shutters protectively covering all the windows from the
elements. The construction seems to be in the log-cabin
style, but where did they get the logs from? There are no
trees here in the valley, and no signs that there ever
were. The roof seem to be intact because I could not see
any damage from my vantage point, although there could have
been leaks over the years. To my untrained eye the lodge
looked like it was a sturdy habitable structure.

When I walked onto the big old creaky porch I found the
front door was ajar and swung slowly in the wind. So I
expected some kind of animal like a bear or maybe some kind
of wolf had taken up residence in the lodge due to the
absence of people for so long. I was extra careful when I
went inside in case the bear was still here even though I
saw no sign of any large animal. What I found inside the
place was far beyond what I expected, it was a wreck. The
lodge had been left furnished as if my grandfather expected
to return at any time. Large animal heads stared glassy
eyed from the walls as I tentatively invaded their tomb.
There was dust and dirt covering every surface I could see.

Small piles of dead plants and tiny animal bones lay
against the walls and in corners. I went into the kitchen
and found that any food that had been left here was long
ago ravaged by wild animals. Pots and pans where scattered
among pieces of broken dishes and cookware.

I moved from room to room cautiously observing the
frozen passage of time in the lodge. The whole house had a
strange lived in feel even though no one had been here in
more than twenty years. I kept waiting to find a pack of
large gray wolves camped out in one of the many rooms that
I searched. In the dark shadowy study I found the
strangest thing I had seen in my exploration of the lodge.

It was a nest of blankets and bedding piled in one corner
against the tall moldering book shelves. It was large
enough that I could have climbed into it and taken a nap if
I had so chosen. The nest seem to have been woven together
over time and is accented by little blue feathers and small
shinny stones. The cloth and blankets where stained strange
colors, some appeared to be blood, and some were old berry
juice smudges. The whole house had a peculiarly fowl musty
odor that I tried to dispel by opening as many rusty hinged
windows as I was able to. 

Until this point the whole experience had been strange and
 almost other worldly. It was like I had stepped into someones 
memory of what this place should be like. I had wondered 
through the lodge airing out it's old ghosts and opening it 
like a long sealed tomb to the daylight. Slowly I had become 
convinced that whatever animal was here had left when it sensed
 my presence. That was my mistake because it made me let my
guard down.

That was when I opened one of the bedroom doors. The
animal leapt out with a feral scream and slammed into my
chest driving me to the ground. It raked against my arm
with its claws as it pinned me to the floor. It was trying
to bite me but I was able to barely hold it at bay by
gripping it's neck. It had some kind of odd red main that
was whipping me in the face as it snarled and clawed at me.

I finally managed get some leverage and pushed hard tossing
it back across the room. It hit the far wall with a crunch
and fell to the floor in a crumpled little pile. It took me
several seconds to get my wits about me as I assessed my
wounds and got to my feet. It's attack had staggered me and
I turned to face my opponent readying for another round.

The animal had gotten back up and was sulking in the
shadows growling viciously at me. I fumbled for my
flashlight that I had clipped to my belt. It was the only
thing I could think to use to defend myself against the
beast. If I could not scare it I could at least use the
light as a makeshift club. Clicking the button on I shown
the light into the beasts face in a attempt to try and
blind it.

What I saw shocked me as nothing in my life ever had.
It was a dirty girl crouched on all fours growling at me.
She could not have been any older then sixteen, but it was
hard to tell under all of the dirt. She had very red hair
that was matted and unkempt that flailed about as she
moved. She was almost naked except for some kind of ragged
dress that hung from her thin frame, and her skin was
splattered with all kinds of substances I would rather not
think of. She flinched away from my light and tried to claw
at me with her right hand, that slashed out with a flash of
metal. That was when I saw the large kitchen knife she
clutched and was still threatening me with. There was
crimson blood splatters on it's crusty pitted blade, my
blood.

I slowly backed up toward the door keeping my eyes on
the little beast. When I was able to get out of the room I
ran down stairs to my pack where I had the forethought to
bring a first aid kit with me. My shirt was ruined and I
had half a dozen shallow gashes on my right arm and
shoulder. After I had stopped the bleeding I looked around
for my little assailant. I spotted her silently watching me
with large predator eyes through the railing on the upper
floor.

OK, I have to stop writing now my arm hurts too much.


May 23, 1954

I was too tired yesterday to write so I let my arm have
a rest. I did as much cleaning as I was able to with my
wound in pain. All day long the girl shadowed me from room
to room as I attempted my resurrection of my grandfathers
lodge. I finished up in the kitchen where I had done the
most amount of work. I had packed a months worth of food
and wanted to setup a working kitchen so I would at least
be able to cook a decent meal. I am at a loss of who this
girl is or how she got here. I had tried to talk to her but
all she would do is growl or grunt as she jabbed toward me
with her knife. She watched me at a distance all day
seeming to try and puzzle out this stranger in her home.

She is now in the next room hiding in the depths of her
nest watching me write as I sit in front of the fireplace.
I gathered some old wood and other things that would burn
and started a fire to keep warm. She seems to be afraid and
at the same time drawn to the flickering light in the
hearth. I slept poorly last night because I was afraid to
close my eyes with a dirty knife wielding moppet in the
next room, but in the end my exhaustion won out.

When I woke up in the morning she had not moved, and
when I stood up the girl flinched sinking deeper into the
safety of her burrow. I always start the day by making some
coffee to warm me, because even though its May here in the
mountains it was cold enough this morning that I was able
see my breath. After a invigorating cup of dark rich roast
I was ready to start on my breakfast. I don’t know what the
girls diet normally consist of. Although what ever it is it
can't be all that healthy, there is not a large selection
of wild foods to choose from up here.

At first she just hid in the study, a pair of eyes
constantly watching me from the darkness. I am not a
psychologist by any stretch of the imagination but I am a
excellently cook. I also know the one thing that will bring
a hungry person to the table quicker than anything else. 

I was right because she slowly crept out of hiding about a
minute after I laid the first strips of bacon on the hot
skillet. The sensual smell of the cooking meat drifted
throughout the house. My mouth was watering as the meat
darkened and sizzled. I observed her as she crept closer
and closer like a shadow moved slowly by the passing sun. I
watched her pink tongue dart across her small dirty lips as
she was drawn out by the succubus smell of the cooking
pork.

When the bacon was nice, crunchy, and crisp, I fished
it out and onto a waiting plate. I snapped off a piece and
popped it in my mouth, relishing the greasy flavor as I
chewed slowly. She was perched on the arm of the chair no
more than ten feet away watching me with huge hungry eyes.

I tried to tempt her by holding out some of the tasty treat
in my hand, but she was too afraid to venture any closer to
me. In the end I tossed it to her and to my surprise she
caught it in her mouth like a well trained dog. She chewed
on the bacon happily enjoying the flavor as I did. We
actually had a moment as I would eat some and then toss
some to her. I thought we had bonded and she would no
longer be afraid of me, but when I stood up she immediately
retreated to her den.

Once again as the day before she followed me around
like my shadow as I progressively cleaned the old lodge of
it's lost memories. Although she does seem to be following
closer to me than she did the day before.


May 24, 1954

Her name is Robin because her red hair reminds me of
the color of a robin's breast. I have given her a name so I
don’t have to keep calling her girl or you. I came here to
solve a riddle about the Blue Pope, but have stumbled
across a greater mystery than I could have ever imagined. I
am stuck here by my self with her for two weeks till the
man I payed to fly me some provisions comes. Maybe I could
ask him if he knows who she mite be.

I started setting up some of my cameras in preparation
for the coming of the Blue Popes. For the last several
months I could think of nothing but the secret of my
mysterious little blue birds. Now all of that is been over
shadowed by Robin. She is a new interesting riddle I long
to crack. I have tried to observe her when she is not aware
I am looking, and it is so strange the way she scurries
around like a savage little mouse. She is very quiet too,
several times she has snuck up on me with out my being
aware of her presence.

As I began to get ready to for dinner Robin startled me
when she jumped on the cooking table in the middle of the
kitchen. She squatted there on the table with a large fish
dangling from her mouth. She dropped it, gave me a look
and jumped back to the floor scampering off. I looked at
the fish laying on the table. Was this a kind of offering?
Was she trying to trade the fish for more bacon? I guess I
will never know.

What I do know from years of practice is how to cook
and clean fish. So I fried up Robin's fish and added to the
plates some wild rabbit cabbage and dried Pope Berries I
had gathered. After I was done, I alone sat at the kitchen
table and began eating. A dirty haired creature crept
around the corner and stared at me from the doorway. 

I placed another plate on the table across from me and
waited. A few minutes later a grubby hand reached up
grabbed the fish and disappeared beneath the table. I could
hear her loudly eating in the dark bellow me. She seemed to
love it because she reached up and fumbled on the plate for
more. She snatched up some of the cabbage pulling it
beneath the table. The food was quickly returned uneaten
except for a single bite. Next she tried a hand full of
berries but these did not return like the cabbage had.

When the berries where gone a pair of eyes hidden under
a scruffy head of hair peeked up over the edge of the table
across from me. I worked hard to ignore her, She grunted
and pushed her plate at me. I stilled pretended like she
was not there. She pushed her plate closer enduring to get
my attention for more food. That was when I acted like I
suddenly noticed her for the first time. Her dark eye gave
me the same look that the puppy I had had growing up would
give me when he was begging for food. I asked her if she
would like some more, and she grunted her confirmation. So
I dolled out another piece of fish for her she quickly
snatched it and scurried out the door.

After dinner I cleaned up the dishes and started
getting ready for bed. I had decided to take up residence
in the downstairs guest bedroom, it was on the opposite
side of the house from Robin's nest. I do not want to scare
her more than I have already, so I am giving her as much
space as I can.


May 27, 1954

I am so tiered I can hardly write. My whole body feels
like someone has beaten me with a stick. Today all of my
hopes came true and all of my fears vanished. I had began
to worry that I was wrong and my birds would never show up.

I hiked around the valley most of the morning taking note
of the small native finches that where nesting here among
the lichen covered boulders. My constant companion followed
me as she had done for the few days of our acquaintance. I
tried hard to pretend she was not there attempting to allow
her to act as natural as possible. I wanted to observe her,
to learn her habits, and maybe this would shine some light
on her life here.

I believe Robin has begun to become adjusted to my
presence. She will follow me as I walk slowly around the
valley taking in the native plants and animals. Some times
she charges ahead diving and darting among the rocks and
bushes. She would chase the small mice and birds trying to
catch them with her hands. When we ventured down near the
edge of the lake she crept up to it and with a strange
grace moved from rock to rock till she was a distance from
the shore. She perched there above the water and looked
thoughtfully into its depths. Robin was perfectly still not
moving a muscle for at least ten minutes, and then she
suddenly dove into the water with almost no splash. I was
stunned that she had made almost no ripples as well and the
ones she did make died almost at once.

A few seconds later she broke the surface of the lake
and began climb back onto the shore carrying another fish
in her mouth. She ran scampering through the muddy shore up
to me smiling all the time. Robin dropped the fish at my
feet and began jumping and prancing around me in joy. She
stopped suddenly and realized that I was within touching
range of her. This made her jump back to a safe distance
where she motioned at the fish lying on the ground. I
smiled at my provider, at least she could help with our
food supply.

She seemed quite proud of her self as she perched on a
rock nearby. That was when they came. The sky darkened with
a cloud of small blue bird that swarmed over the rim of the
valley. It was breathtaking to watch the shifting flock as
they massed over head. They flew in a random chaotic
patterns in the beautiful azure sky before landing in the
scrubby green bushes on the valley floor. I was witnessing
a almost holy sight that no one else had seen in a long
time, no one except Robin. The bird flocked around her
landing here and there on her head, shoulders, and out
stretched hands. I took as many pictures of this that I
could, only stopping to reload the camera again and again.

By the time it was over I had exhausted almost half of my
film supply, but if not for these photos I do not think
anyone would ever believed me.


May 31, 1954

Spring is finally touching the valley as the bees are
hard at work pollinating the berry bushes. I have spent the
last few days in rapture of personal discovery. Not of the
birds that brought me the thousand miles or so from New
York, but her. Robin goes out every morning after breakfast
to be with the birds. It is the only thing that we seem to
share in common with each other. She has become climatized
to my proximity, enough so that I was able to touch her
hand and she did not instantly draw away from me.

I am now her shadow as I follow her around the valley.
I watch as she moves among the bushes and rocks chasing the
mice and other birds away from her little blue friends. The
Blue Popes actually seem to favor her as well, they will
land on her head and pluck a few stray stands of hair
before flying away again to use them in their nest building
activity. She seems to allow them to do this with no malice
or trepidation on her part, in fact she seems to enjoy it.

The bird must have been her only friends all these years.
It makes me sad and joyous to think of what her life must
have been like all alone in this valley.

I had a great need to relive my self yesterday and went
to the outhouse with one of the National Geographic
Magazines I had brought with me. I was drawn into the
article and had not noted the passage of time or considered
the need too. In the middle of the article the door the the
old slat wood shack flew open and Robin looked in at me.

She seemed to be upset and began touching me on my knees
and shins. She was breathing rapidly and I saw tear streaks
in the dirt on her face as if she had been crying. Her mood
seem to lift when she found me and she seem to need to
touch me to assure herself I was real. She smiled happily
at me from underneath her dirty hair as she rubbed my
knees. I told her it was OK I was just going to the
bathroom and would kindly like some privacy.

Her touching and rubbing had progressed above my knees
and to my groin, where she encountered my manhood. Her
smile faded as she stopped and bent to investigate this
strangeness that I seem to possess. She cupped her own
groin and found it lacking and that seem to enhance her
curiosity. I tried to dissuade her from touching me but it
was like playing with a cat as she avoided my hands and
kept probing me there. Against all my mental fortitude I
found my rod stiffening under her assault. Finally she
managed to grasp it firmly in her hand and smiled a big
grin like she had won a game or something. I had enough and
forcefully expelled her from the latrine.

Although I must confess that night I did pleasure
myself in the quiet chapel like darkness of my room. I
thought of the girl I had chased in college as I preformed
the deed and just when I reached my climax it was not the
blond haired librarians face the flashed in my minds eye
but Robins. I can not explain it and I am at a loss as to
why I write it here, now in these pages. Maybe it was just
a fluke occurrence due to her earlier game at the outhouse.
I do not think any thing like that will happen again, I
hope.


June 2, 1954

The mans name was Peperton he owned a water plane that
he used to fly people to remote lakes all over the mountain
range. I had met him in the little dust bowl of a town at
the end of the tracks where I had set off from to reach my
grandfathers land. He had a weathered face, sour attitude,
stank of whiskey and chewing tobacco. He had told me it
would cost twenty dollars to have him fly the supplies I
had brought with me up to the cabin. I gladly paid his fee
and told him what day I would be expecting him, but that
day came and went with no sight of the old man. Two more
days pasted and I was beginning to assume that he was not
going to show up. That was when I heard the buzzing of his
plane and I walked out into the fields.

Robin burst from the house onto the porch and began
looking around for this new noisy intruder. I waved my hat
at the old man to get his attention as he banked around
looking for a safe approach to the lake. I was concerned
that there would not be enough space to land his plane, but
true to his word Peperton was able to put down easily on
the glassy surface of the lake. His plane nosed up to the
shore and ran aground in a heavily muddy area. The old man
laughed as he disembarked and shouted greetings to me. I
should have realized that I had put the mans life in danger
by asking him to come here. Even though I did not know it
at the time of my asking.

In my excitement of his arrival I had forgotten all
about Robin and our first encounter. I should have warned
him, told him to stay in the plane till I had dealt with
her safely. Sadly none of these thoughts even crossed my
mind, the images of all the supplies he had brought pushed
such thoughts to the back of my head. She was a blur as she
sprung from the bushes and pounced on the old man. I had
not seen her progress or even heard her as she readied her
attack. Her sharp kitchen knife that she had put away so
many days ago was once again in her hand and flashed with
her deadly intent.

I rushed forward as the two rolled on the ground. The
old weathered pilot and the dirt smeared girl tussling on
the rocky shore of the peaceful lake. Locked in a battle to
the death I feared would end badly. When I did manage to
finally get there I wrapped my arms around Robin pinning
her arms to her sides and lifted her off of her victim. She
was once again the wild animal I had first met on arriving
to the valley. She tried to slash at me with the knife she
still held in her hand, but as I restrained her I spoke
into her ear in the attempt to calm her. I did not go
unpunished for my deed because she had managed to inflict
several small wounds on my leg and cafe.

The old man regained his feet and seem to be torn
between fleeing to his plane and looking at the creature
that had attacked him. In the end I calmed Robin enough so
she gave me the knife (that I vowed to hide) and slunk back
to a safe distance. It took me a hour to explain to
Peperton what was going on and in the end he seem to
understand the situation. He unloaded my gear refusing to
help me carry it to the lodge and I tipped him a extra ten
dollars asking him to do some research into Robins identity
for me. I also requested he mail two letters for me, one to
my mother explaining about my absence, and one to a school
friend of mine who was also a ornithologist. The latter
contained a picture of Robin smiling and standing in the
middle of a flock of Blue Popes as they landed on her. It
was one of the photos I had taken on the day of their
arrival. I also asked my friend to send aid if he could.

The old man took off into the sky as he left our
valley. Going back to the little spot of nowhere on the map
he called home with ten dollars and a strange tale. As for
me I had a long hard task of carrying the twenty or so bags
up to the lodge before night fall. As I write this I am
sitting on the couch, warmed by a small fire, and watching
my little Robin as she lays on the floor at my feet staring
into the dancing flames. She is such a mystery, and my mind
seems to be drawn back to the strange encounter we shared
the week before. I have tried to exorcise it from my mind,
but like some vengeful specter it reappears when I least
expect it.


June 5, 1954

Robin is one of the bravest person I have ever met. She
has no fear at all. I have watched her bound over the huge
boulders in a single leap and scamper through such small
tight spaces that I would get claustrophobia. She seems to
be made of the hard land it's self, but there is one thing
she can not stand up too.

It started yesterday. I noticed that the sky was dark
on the north side of the ridge and by afternoon I was
certain that rain was coming. The dark heavy bellied clouds
skirted over the mountain and dipped down into our valley.

They blotted out the sun and when the rain did start to
fall it was in large plopping drops that seem to explode on
impact. As I stood on the old porch I could hear the dry
earth groaning as it greedily drank the skies gift. I was
in awe at the boundless transformations that this land seem
to go through. The heavenly flood gates where open and this
time there was no biblical boat to save two of every
creature.

I looked down to where Robin had been sitting for the
past few hours and found her missing. I searched inside and
she turned up in her nest clutching the knife I thought I
had expertly hidden. her eyes where huge as she looked out
from beneath the safety of the blankets. I tried to tempt
her out telling her it was only rain and to not be afraid,
but she would not budge. I went as far as to fry up some
bacon for dinner but not even this seem to lure my savage
mouse out of her den. In the end I resolved to allow her
the eccentricities she was use to, as long as she did not
hurt her self it would be okay. I could not see why she
would be afraid of rain. Then as I was about to climb under
the covers into bed it happened.

There was a distant “BOOM” of thunder, and from across
the lodge I heard a quick scream. Robin was afraid of
thunder. I guess it was not all that uncommon for people to
be afraid of the titanic crashes of loud storms. I was sure
she had rode out a many of showers alone here and this one
would be no different. So I lay in bed listening to the
soft roar of the water on the roof. I have never had the
occasion to wear bed cloths, and this was a issue for me
when I was in college. My roommate balked at me for
wondering naked to the toilet in the middle of the night.

So as I lay listening to the storm rage outside my hand on
it's own accord navigated bellow my waist and began
expertly manipulating what it found there. It became
something of a chore as the loud discharges outside seem to
increase in frequency, but still remained random enough to
break my concentration.

For every boom I heard, it was accompanied by a small
shriek of terror for the other side of the lodge. This had
the strange effect of exciting me and quickened my
progress. When I began to feel the first onset of my
finally there was the loudest explosion yet. It was so loud
it could have been right outside my window. It had the
ferocity of some elder pagan gods freed for imprisonment
and on a rampage across the country side.

The accompanying rumble of the thunder masked Robins
approach so I was unaware of her presence until she had
pounced on the bed and burrowed passed me under the covers.
She latched on to me and I could feel her trembling in fear
of the evil gods outside our walls. I could feel her rapid
hot breath against my chest as her naked body clung to
mine. I could almost hear the rapid bird like fluttering of
her heart as she pressed hard against me in the dark of my
room. I can not tell you why for I do not know my self, but
as she lay shivering next to me I could not stop pleasuring
myself. 

Her hot skin touching mine and the fear I could almost smell 
coming off of her was like a drug. In an instant I found 
myself peaking in masturbatory ecstasy as her presence 
pushed me over the edge. To my shame I turned my rod toward 
her and christened her with my fluids not once, but twice. 
After I reached bliss the first time I started over and 
found it progressed so quickly that no more than a minute 
past since the first discharge. I furiously pumped myself 
till there was no more left and I collapsed.

After my second time I lay there panting and ashamed at
what I had done. Robin did not seem to care, her only
thoughts where of hiding from the storm. I had fouled this
poor innocent girl with my seed. I was so ashamed I wanted
to comfort her so I wrapped my arms around her shivering
body in a protective cocoon, shielding her from the storm
that ragged on outside our lodge. The source of my shame
lay between us still as hard and erect as it had been when
I soiled her. I could not sleep, her whimpers and cries
kept me alert all through the night. Once when another loud
crash occurred some where nearby she did something that
broke my heart and made my deed feel even worse.
When the lightning struck with a thunderous boom she
flinched and grasped at me the only person she had, and I
heard her bark out the word “Daddy”.


June 6, 1954

It is the morning after the storm and we had both slept
in late. When I awoke the bright sun was streaming through
the windows into my room. It was a stark contrast from the
apocalyptic night before. Robin was still quietly sleeping
next to me under the blankets, and I could only see her
disheveled hair peeking out. I made every attempt to stay
perfectly still as to not disturb her, but only a few
minutes later she began to stir as well.

I did not want to frighten her, she maybe fearless but
she was very cautious. I did not want her to panic upon
waking to find us sharing such intimate sleeping
arrangements. I had worked hard to form a bond with her and
it could easily be broken if she was to react wrong to the
encounter. So I stayed as still as possible and allowed her
to awaken to her situation. I felt the instant that she
became aware of our circumstances because she suddenly
flinched and became ridged. I struggled to control my
breathing, and not let her become aware I was awake. I felt
her head move under the covers and I felt small fingers
poking my stomach. She traced my muscles underneath my skin
and her finger dipped into my belly button. Robin was
really testing me because I was trying hard not to start
giggling, because I am very ticklish.

Her exploration kept heading down and I became aware
that I had a excellent case of morning stiffness. The
memory of the outhouse incident replayed in my minds eye.
Now I could not move for fear of scaring her, I could not
dodge her questing fingers this time. I felt her probing
moving below my waist and to my groin. I felt her run her
fingers trough my tuft of curly hair. Her touch was like
soft little feathers as she explored me. She was not rough
as she stroked me and I felt her light touch begin to rub
my rod as she questioned it's alien stiffness.

The pleasure I experienced as she tested my male parts
lasted for some time. Her desire to touch and experience me
seem to go on forever. When she finally emerged from under
the covers our eyes met and I expected her to bolt upon
realizing I was awake. Instead she just smiled at me with
those beautiful sparkling eyes and nuzzled closer against
my body. This had to be the most contact she had ever had
with another person in her life. It seem to break down what
ever barriers she had erected and as she lay there with her
head resting on my chest I heard her clearly call me daddy
once again. The name she seems to have chosen for me is
concerning, but at the same time endearing. I will try and
teach her my real name, because I fear what would happen if
she called me that in some other persons presence.

We spent a good portion of the day just laying in the
warm confines of the bed until she seem to feel the need to
relieve her self. She did not return and soon after I too
rose. I do not understand how this will change our
relationship if at all, but I hope it is for the better.


June 10, 1954

so much has changed over the last few days I do not
know where to begin. Robin has taken to sleeping with me
every night now, and she seems to find endless fun in
touching me before we fall asleep. I do not know if this is
a wise decision to allow her to keep doing this, but I
honestly have no desire to stop her. It now seems to be the
favorite part of her day, and she has allowed me in small
measures to touch her back.

During the day I watch her as she goes about the valley
seeing to the birds. It is almost like it is her job to
care for these animals. She gathers nesting material for
them leaving it in little piles for the birds swarm over
and fly back with sticks to their bushes as they build
their nests. I now see a similarity between the Blue Popes
nests and the one Robin slept in. she shares a strange
relationship with these birds I will never understand.

I have also unlocked part of Robins past. It happened
when she stole one of my nature magazines. It seemed she
likes the pictures of the people in them. She will stare
for hours at the books and I have caught her mimicking what
she sees in the photos. She seems to be fond of one picture
of a man and a woman in a deep romantic kiss. She has even
tried to copy the photo by kissing me on the lips. I did
not really mean too but I showed her how it is meant to be
done by giving her a slow full kiss. When our lips parted
she let out a deep sigh and smiled at me. Some how I could
tell that she was aroused by this, and that night she did
not want to touch me only to kiss over and over again.

It was several days ago I was startled when I heard
Robin start crying loudly and yelling for me repetitively.
When I rushed inside I found her curled up in her nest
crying her eyes out. When I went to comfort her she clung
to me and refused to let go for hours. Eventually I got her
to calm down, and she fell asleep in our bed. I now call it
our bed, that is strange. I am sharing my bed with a savage
girl who can be no older then my sister. Is it wrong? So in
my investigation of what had caused her to become so upset
I stumbled across one of my magazines thrown into the
corner of the room. It was not hard to guess the picture
that had upset her so badly.

It was half way through the book and took up one whole
page. It had been taken in Australia somewhere from inside
a house and depicted a man standing in the doorway of a
cabin. Outside the weather was grim and the photographer
had captured the image just as lightning had struck in the
background silhouetting the man. This image of a man going
out into a storm had traumatized her so badly, and Robin
was also afraid of thunder storms. So it was not a far leap
for me to see her real father finding this lodge and
telling Robin to stay while he went back out into the storm
for some reason. Maybe to find his wife, or another child.
Who knows but what I do know is he never came back, and she
was left here alone.


June 13, 1954

I seem to have a calming effect on Robin because when
Mr. Peperton returned yesterday Robin did not try and kill
him. She was actually civil, or as civil as Robin gets. She
approached him and from the safety of my back she watched
the old man as we discussed my plans to leave the valley at
the beginning of July. Peperton Made a good point to me
though. Robin will not be allowed to wonder around back in
the real world in the half naked state she is always in. I
asked him to please bring something she could wear with him
next time he came, and promised to pay him when I was able.

He told me not to bother that a man had been to see him.
The man had been sent by my mother and gave Peperton a
thousand dollars to make sure I made it back safely. My
mother has always been overly protective, and it annoys me
sometimes.

He also had a letter from my friend asking me to send
more information about the Blue Popes, but to be honest
they really do not interest me anymore. After that stormy
night me and Robin spent together she is really the only
bird that holds my focus. Before the old man left he knelt
down to eye level with Robin and offered her a sweet. She
had cautiously taken it from him looking it over not sure
what to do with it, but when the old man popped one in his
own mouth she did the same. Her eyes lit up as the sugary
treat exploded with new alien tastes, Peperton had made a
friend from a enemy. He even let her touch his cracked and
wrinkly face as a sign of affection.

I am scared for my Robin. If she gets back to
civilization how will she fit in? I swear this, I will
exhaust my trust fund before I let them take her off to
some squalid orphanage. I mite not be able to hire the best
lawyers money can buy but I can damn sure get an army of
expensive ones.

The one thing Peperton gave me that inspired hope was a
news clipping about a man who had stumbled into town twelve
years ago and died soon after. He was on a camping trip
with his wife and two daughters, and they where all
presumed dead. The article did give the family’s names, so
it was a toss up. Robins real name could be Lisa or Carol.
Well it does not matter to me she is Robin who's hair is
the color of the robins breast.


June 20, 1954

So much to write about, July is fast approaching and it
feels like every day is slipping by faster. All my studies
on the Blue Pope is done and I can focus all my attention
on Robin. I have at long last managed to give her a bath. I
found a old washtub and filled it full of hot soapy water.

At first she would have nothing to do with it but when I
stripped and climbed in she suddenly became curious. I
halfheartedly shooed her off which made her even more
determined to investigate the strange new wonder. Finally
she leapt over the edge and joined me. I washed and she
mimicked me, and after some getting use to she allowed me
to wash her. At first she was reluctant to allow me, but
after a few minutes she leaned back and let me have my way
with all of her.

That night we enjoyed each others bodies, her animal
sounds spurring me on deep into the night. If there really
is a heaven in the afterlife it is pale in comparison to
what I felt then for Robin.


July 1, 1954

I am writing a short entry, Peperton is here to take us
back to the real world. Our private happiness is over and I
fear the real work is about to begin. As I sit in our
bedroom I can see my little Robin preforming her job of
laying out nesting material for the bird although none of
them seem to need it anymore. Most of the nests now have
eggs in them and in a few weeks will begin to hatch. She is
not the same feral creature that gave me the scar on my arm
anymore. She seem to almost be a real girl with a beautiful
yellow sun dress. I have tried to get her to wear shoes but
even saints do not have that kind of patience.

I am leaving this book here. If I took it back and some one
found the confessions in its pages... I don’t know what
mite happen. I hope to some day return.


February 15, 1955

It has been some time since I have written in this
book. A lot has happened. Me and Robin have returned to my
grandfathers Lodge in Blue Pope Valley, Robin chose the
name. She wants to be ready for when the birds return. I
will hazard a guess that she will probably need help
tending to the birds this year. She did not do as well as I
had hoped back in the real world, New York was not for her.

Actually I should say she was not for New York. A few
months after our return I had to bail her out of jail after
she bit the ear off a guy who had tried to mug and rape
her. She savaged the man without thinking twice, they found
him in a hospital a few block from where the officers pick
her up. Thankfully he was to frightened of her to press
charges. She is still a wild thing, and the mother of our
baby.

As I write this she is laying in the warmth of our bed
next to me. Neither of us ever wear anything to bed and so
I can feel her large swollen belly between us as she
snuggles up to me for the night. She is expecting in a few
weeks and we wanted to have our first child here where we
met. Robin still calls me daddy even though I have tried to
teach her my name. It is one of the reasons we came back
here.

It seems I was a little off about Robins age, turns out
she is nineteen, well twenty now. She was left here alone
when she was only eight and live for twelve years without
any other human contact. She is fond of taking my hand and
putting it on her stomach and saying “egg” or “baby”. She
has been slowly expanding her vocabulary and is a very
quick learner. My family was hard pressed to understand the
relationship we share.

I think back to that stormy night that we shared
together as the best time of our lives. No wait that’s
wrong, the best day of our lives was the morning after.


Epilogue

the old woman closed the book and returned it to the
shelf next to the picture of her late husband. Touching the
image encased in the silver frame she whispers one word
“Daddy”.


Thank you for reading this.
I hope you found as much joy in your adventure through it
as I did writing it. Now it is time to close our story, the
dragon has been slain, all the aliens are dead, the robots
are packed away, and our heroes have walked off into the
sun set. So from me to you once again thank you and safe
journey.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 85