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Writing > Users > Jeorge > 2007

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Jeorge on September 6, 2007

Flying Through The Clouds

High above the trees, high above even the mountains and the clouds, the winged avian soared on wispy currents of air. To him, the humans who inhabited the earth below were not even like ants; they were so insignificant that they could not even be seen.

Farms, with their rectangular fields that stretched on for miles were like a pattern of dominoes on the ground, and super highways were like strands of hair stretching out in all directions.

The bird breathed deeply the thin air, and then dipped down momentarily into the clouds. The feeling of blindness was an intense and exciting experience; he had lost a cousin to a giant metal bird in a cloud such as this one.

Slowly the bird dropped lower and lower to the ground, through layers upon layers of clouds and clear air, until the roads were no longer like strands of hair; now they were like thin hair ribbons, thrown haphazardly on the ground.

Suddenly he was falling, falling, falling. As though in a nightmare he felt the screaming of the wind whipping past him as he dropped closer and closer to the ground. As though in a nightmare he saw his wings shrinking and shrinking, becoming atrophied and useless. As though in a nightmare he...

Suddenly, he woke up, realizing that it was a nightmare. With a sad and pathetic shudder he looked at his stubby, useless little wings, and remembered that he was just a dodo bird.

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