“Bird Lady’s Spring” {Camp NaNo flash fiction}

“The sun peeked out from behind its puffy cloud cover just long enough to warm the breeze. The Writer’s door brushed open, the hinges yawning pleasantly, and she stepped out.”

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Yo, at like 12:45 last night I realized I hadn’t hit publish on this… soooo though I usually don’t post on Sundays I’m going to this time and pretend I did it yesterday like planned. Deal? XD Here’s a peek at the words I wrote for April 1st’s Camp Exercise prompt! (#roughdraft 😛 )

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April 1st// Your Writing Inspiration

The sun peeked out from behind its puffy cloud cover just long enough to warm the breeze. The Writer’s door brushed open, the hinges yawning pleasantly, and she stepped out.

With curly hair tumbling from the band on top of her head, she threw her head back, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply of the spring air for a few solid minutes. A tiny smile danced around her lips as she stood there, barefoot, soaking up the cool sunshine.

The sound of suburbia, namely a hurried neighbor pulling their trash cans to the curb, startled her awake again to the world around her.

“Right,” she drew a quick breath, “The mail.” Slipping her hands into her pockets, the touch of a pencil sent her hastily to the mailbox to finish her errand in the outdoors.

Mailboxes are generally viewed as a tin toolbox on a post by most people. But to the few who stop to look at them hard, they are really rather mysterious creatures. You never know what you might find in a mailbox.

One day it could be an add, perfect for the manufacturing of topnotch confetti; while another day it might be an adventure sealed within an innocent-looking white envelope.

The Writer was still waiting for a letter from a long-lost uncle to show up. And so her hand paused on the hatchway for half a moment before giving the handle a quick tug and peering inside.

Nothing but the friendly spider peered back at her from the dark recesses. The girl wrinkled her forehead at it.  “Nothing today, Webster? I was dreadfully hoping to find something of inspiration in here.”

A young bird paused atop the mailbox and tilted his head. “Do you have a story idea for me, Songbird?” her voice was barely above a soft whisper. He chirped, springing up and gliding across the street. The Writer’s big gentle eyes followed the movement. And smiled.

A silver-haired woman was just maneuvering her walker out the door of the house across the street, and birds of all kinds had gathered on the lawn to say hello to her.

“Oh how sweet,” gasped the girl.

The woman seemed to be speaking to each one as a friend. Then turning with slow careful movements, she dipped her hand into a tub set on the walker and sprinkled feed in a graceful arc.

The Writer froze, “My inspiration was here all along!” Spinning on her heel she dashed inside.

Leaning over her desk, she pulled out a clean sheet of paper and words began to form. “The bird woman visited that day. The day a new spring rippled over the world and the birds came out to sing. Together, they welcomed their friend home again.”

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And that’s it! What do you think? One of the cool things about doing these “Camp Exercises” is I can write something really long like this if I’m into it, or do just a paragraph or two!

Do you enjoy receiving/sending snail mail?

Later, Anna