Summer Creative Writing Contest 2020: ‘THE BIRD’

The Palisadian-Post is running a selection of winning pieces from the 2020 Pacific Palisades Library Association’s Summer Creative Writing Contest, which featured the theme “Surprise Us!” The following piece was penned by James Corman, who was awarded second place in the Scrawlers category (grades five and six).

On the ground sat a rock
Grey, still, cold.
On the rock sat a bird,
Around the bird, glass walls, people
Peering in.
The bird was lonely, cold, wanting,
Wanting more
But knowing nothing.
The bird
Had no experience
Except life in a glass cage
In a zoo with eyes looking in, hopeful,
Hopeful that something would happen,
But the bird just sat on the rock.
Hoping for nothing, but still hoping.
This was all the bird knew. A boy
Knocking on the glass,
The bird startled
Then relaxed,
Although never quite relaxed enough,
Never quite curious enough
Never until
Night. The bird, asleep
Had a dream.
Of life. A dream that had never stopped from the day the bird hatched,
But the dream,
Had never fully started
Until that night. Stars,
Shining down. The bird woke up.
And flew into the night sky
Saw rivers glowing beneath the moonlight,
Heard the soft rustling of leaves.
Felt freedom
Morning.
Awake the bird sat,
On a grey, still, cold, rock.
Awake and awakened to reality.
The bird sat behind glass,
With eyes peering in.
Hands knocking on the glass.
The bird, bored, closed his eyes
And dreamed of flying,
Enjoying himself. The bird decided
That dreaming was better than reality,
So the bird did not open his eyes for a very long time.
And the eyes stopped peering.
And the hands stopped knocking.
And the bird lay still,
Forgotten until
The bird decided to wake up and fly away,
Into a world that didn’t exist. The bird
Disappeared leaving behind
Feathers of every color
Spread out.
Every day, one by one, the feathers turned grey
Until one was left.
One blue feather. And the feather waited patiently
On a rock.
One day, the feather blew
Into the wind and landed, and where it landed,
A fire lit.
The fire spread and burned down everything in its way.
But when it was put out, the feather remained.
At that moment a bird woke up,
A bird sitting on a grey, cold, still, rock.
Behind glass walls.
With eyes peering in
From every direction.