Adrift

A youngling cast eyes skyward upon birth. Energies entered its being, strengthened its mind, its heart.

That youngling grew, phased, loved, laughed. Built together a house-family, welcomed partners and friends, life happy and full.

Years on, now-grown, they lay ready. Every village eagerly awaiting the next youngling’s birth on the morrow.

Eyes closed now, their mind drifted.

No longer amongst their house-family’s hearts, but rather above, looking down upon sprawling villages-turned-cities.

How they’d all grown.

Life flowed onward.

A new youngling cast eyes skyward upon birth, its mind and heart strengthened by an ancient energy.

Unseen, yet deeply felt.

© 2021 Rebecca Glaessner


This challenge is for a Special Collection over at the Ranch, to honor fellow Rough Writer Sue Vincent.

January 28, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about life as a river of consciousness. Think about the possibilities of the prompt. Go where the prompt leads!

Find the full special collection here.

Protector

A scream cut through her from across the meadow and she raged into action, dismissing her injury and climbing up the nearest lookout.
Her arms trembled, not used to her own weight, but she needed to ensure her charge was okay.
Her heart pounded at another squeal and she cursed her clumsiness; she would’ve been on top by now.
Silence.
Finally up, she peered through the crisp fog and relief washed over her as she saw the dancing figures, twirling around a ring of daisies.
She leaned against the lookout rose’s petals, breathing deep and stroking her torn wing.

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

Spring Howls

Colours bombarded his senses. Everywhere the spring sun reached, blooms thrived.
Th-thump, th-thump.
He caught yelps and a myriad of birdsong drifting on the crisp winds as he ran.
Th-thump, th-thump.
Green shoots pushed through snow still clinging to the base of trees; branches hanging as shields against the warm sun.
Th-thump.
Ducking his head as he wove through the forest, his ears swivelled, searching. His hair bristled as he spotted the clearing. Taking a breath, he leapt and landed in a furry heap with another.

Thick paws clashed and fangs nipped as wet snouts and rumbling howls mingled.

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

Free as a Child

Wings spread, songs of flight ring out from her heart as she runs round and round through a forest of legs and chairs. She glides to a halt by the place from where food comes and smiles up at Mumma bird.

Savouring the sharp crunch and sweet juices of a well-earned grape, she takes off.

With a heavy breath, Mumma walks off, arms heavy with a cold, plastic washing basket. Mumma pulls a tiny jumper down over baby bird’s head mid-flight, “it’s freezing.”
Wings bound, baby bird collapses in a heap, tears welling up, “but I have feathers Mumma…”

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

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