The bird waddled through the deserted streets. The animal was plump and ugly, save for the colour of its feathers which shone in a translucent orange glow that contrasted sharply with its weathered grey beak. The way it hopped over the bodies that still littered the pavement betrayed a casualness usually reserved for a habit you acquire over a vast number of years, until someone mentions it off the cuff and you go “Oh yeah, I wonder where I picked that up!”
Read the rest of the tale and 100 more stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.
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300 stories 
I love your tiny stories but I never knew they were called flash fiction. Thanks for teaching me that and for following me.
This one is a “good wtf”.
What a fabulous idea–300 stories in one year. If all are as cool as this one, I’ll be reading.
I love this! Too often, scifi treats the prospect of humanity’s extinction as the result of something nefarious (Plague, vampires, robots, Cthulhu), when it’s equally likely we’ll meet our end to something more benign. Like a new, dominant life form with no more intelligence than a chicken.
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I love this!!! I missed it earlier. And as I read it, I was reminded of an article my dad did on the DoDo bird a couple years ago. He passed away last year, but as I read this, my very first thought — as often happens even after we lose someone — was that I must read this story to him because he would get the greatest kick out of it. Well, of course, my very next thought was that I can’t do that now. But I have to tell you that, when I get to Heaven with him, if there’s any opportunity at all, I’m going to be sure he hears this story. He would absolutely love it.