On the back of this horrible heap of personal sarcasm and a sorry attempt to be humorous, this is my 100th post. (When I say 100, all those short stories, all those poems are also counted in. I hope it counts. I say it does.) So let’s exploit me, shall we?
A long time ago, before I had my own computer, I wrote a short story about a baby bird who thought he couldn’t fly on the pages of my school notebook. Not during class, don’t worry.
I can’t remember why I wrote it (and truthfully I don’t know what I was thinking). But I do remember the process. Especially how proud I felt when my Mom laughed at my joke when the birdie’s father gives his son a book on how to fly.
Now that I think about it, I have a feeling my Mom contributed to some of this madness.
The Story of the birdie who thought he couldn’t fly
written by NJ the Tiger Writer, Age 12
Note: I only fixed obvious mistakes but left the rest as it was.
In Central Lewis Park, in the biggest tree, lived a mama bird named Martha, and a father bird named Fred, and three baby birds named, Flapster and Tweeky and Birdiana.
One day Martha decided that it was time for her children to learn to fly. She told them, “Now children, you have become old enough to be able to go off on your own. So I will teach you how to fly. Now flap your wings, run and kick the ground…and fly! And don’t forget to flap your wings!”
With that, first Flapster tried, “Open…run…kick! And…oooops!…Flap! I’m flying!”
Next, Birdiana tried the drop-out-of-the-nest-and-fly, which she learned at school. And she did it! “Yay! It worked!” she said.
Tweeky who was watching all this tried to fly but he just fell straight down like a bomb.
“Tweeky! You’re supposed to flap when you fall!” said Fred.
“What do you mean? I can’t fly!” squeaked Tweeky from below.
“You’re a bird dear, all birds fly!” said Martha.
“Huh? Fly?” squeaked Tweeky, “What do you mean?” he said.
“Here Tweeky, read this book,” his father handed him a thin blue book. The title said, “How to fly for complete bird-brains”. Tweeky read the book, but he still thought he couldn’t fly.
Day after day, Tweeky’s parents tried to teach him how to fly. When that didn’t work, his Auntie Feather and Uncle Tailester tried to teach him. But Tweeky still couldn’t fly. Even when his favorite grandma Beakling tried to teach him, it was no use.
“I can’t fly!” squeaked Tweeky.
One windy day when Tweeky was walking around under the tree, suddenly a big wind came whoosh! It picked Tweeky up from the ground! “Mama, mama!” cried Tweeky. “Tweeky! Tweeky!” cried his mother. Martha tried to fly, but the wind was too strong. Tweeky was being pushed and pulled by the wind. He turned around and around. Then he spotted a bird (who wasn’t spinning) who was a little bit older than he was.
“Hey!” said the bird, “Why aren’t ya flapp’n yer wings?”
“What are wings?” asked Tweeky, getting dizzier and dizzier.
“Wings are those things stick’n out of yer sides. You can move ‘em. Ever tried that?” said the bird.
“No,” squeaked Tweeky.
“Well why don’t ya give it a try? Then maybe you can stop spinn’n,” said the bird. Tweeky, getting quite dizzy, was able to look at the “things sticking out of his sides”, or “wings” as they seemed to be called. Then he tried moving them. Then he saw that they can move up and down.
“Good. Now that’s called flap’n. Now, try to put more energy into it,” said the bird.
Tweeky did. And the next thing he knew was that he wasn’t spinning around anymore. The wind seemed to be covering him like a blanket instead of picking him up and tossing him around.
“Good. Now, follow me,” said the bird. And he turned against the wind, which was much calmer by now, and soared off. Tweeky started to fall at first, but then he was able to stay up, and keep up with the other bird.
“By the way, name is Tuck. What’s yer’s?”
“Well Tweeky, this is called fly’n! Ain’t it just great?”
Then Tweeky and Tuck went back to Tweeky’s home. The whole family came flying up to congratulate Tweeky and thank Tuck.
“Aw, it was noth’n. I just had the feel’n he could use a little help.” Tuck told everyone that he lived in River Flow Park, but Tweeky could come and see him.
Tweeky smiled, Tuck went home, and everyone else went to bed, happily ever after.
Hope you enjoyed it and maybe cringed a little with me with that sorry Southern accent I had for Tuck. I do like Southern accents though.
copyrighted 2018 The Tiger Writer