The Origami Bird

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The Origami Bird

There once was a bird who lived inside a paper house. The walls were so thin that he could hear everything from the other side. Afraid to make a sound, he sat by himself, stiff in an armchair.

On the days that he would fly from his window into the deep blue sky, he could not be there fully. Instead his mind was trapped inside the origami house, wondering what his neighbors were doing.

He wondered if they would be fighting about who would do the dishes. He wondered if he could smell their worm casserole through the walls. He wondered if he could hear them laughing and talking with friends late at night.

So consumed was he by these neighbors that he forgot where he was going. He forgot about the sky and its magical feeling of infinity. He forgot about his hunger for worms and mice. Instead, he stayed inside and listened to the lives around him.

His neighbors had children together and raised them to be strong. They had birthdays and wedding celebrations and dinners with guests. His neighbors would sometimes listen to loud music or shriek over the phone. There never seemed to be an end to their stories of excitement.

One day, when the neighbors were unusually quiet, the bird got an itch to find an adventure of his own.  When he got up to go to the window there was a sharpness in his side. He lifted his wing, but could no longer remember how to fly.  He hoped for the sky.  He hoped for the best. But when he looked down, his wings had turned to paper.

 

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The Purse and The Scarf

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There was once a purse more solid and secure than any other purse in the town. She was large with a dull leather body, and a strong strap that dangled by her side. The only problem she faced was that she felt perpetually empty.

I need something to fill me up, she constantly thought. Something logical. Something I can rely on. She stuffed herself with money. Loose dollar bills and coins weighed her down. With her new wealth, she could buy anything she wanted.

She bought a wallet for organization. She bought chapstick so that she wouldn’t crack. She bought a comb, floss, band aids (just in case) and a pad of paper. Still, she felt empty. Her items were necessities, but she still needed more.

The other purses she saw looked fancy. They were patterned with the help of different stitches. As a collection of material, they stood together, fabric clinging to the outside of their leather. They had color and life where her body felt heavy and dark. When the purse looked at the others, she could only feel sadness.

Then one day at the thrift store the purse saw a scarf. It was pink, flowy, and blew in the air conditioning.

“You look like the perfect scarf,” the purse said.

“Thank you, but I’m far from perfect,” the scarf replied.

“But why?”

“I’m too flighty. Without something to tie me down, I’ll blow away. You are the perfect one. So secure and strong. If only I had your presence.”

“You wouldn’t want to be me,” the purse lamented. “I may be secure, but I feel completely empty. Can I use you to make me feel whole inside?”

The scarf thought for a moment. “No, I can not fill you up.”

“But I need you. I have all this stuff inside me, but I’m still so empty.”

“I can not fill you up. I’m too light and there is not enough of me to fill that hole.”

The purse started to cry. “What will I do?”

“I’ll tell you what,” the scarf said after careful consideration. “We can become friends. Arm in arm, we can travel throughout life together. You’ll tie me down, and I’ll support you.  I’ll never be able to fill you up completely, but a part of me will cover you with color.”

The purse stopped crying. She held out her strap and the scarf clung on. Together they would face the days side by side.

Policeman Statue

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Photo by: Tom Haynes

http://www.TheDrabble.wordpress.com

There was once a man who had all the authority in the world, but no one to talk to. He traveled far and wide across the country in search of a friend, but to his despair, found none.

He talked to the woman with the pretty green and white skirt. But when she saw him, done up in his police outfit, she was too scared to say hello.

He talked to the children sitting outside of a school playground. But when they saw his erect posture, they knew he was no one to mess around with. They too were too scared to say hello.

Finally one afternoon the man with authority talked to a salesman at a corner market off the side of a busy road.

“Would you like these magical beads? If you rub them between your fingers and make a wish, it will come true.”

“How much are they?” The policeman asked skeptically.

“Twenty dollars. They are good luck.”

Reluctantly, the policeman paid for the beads and rolled them across his fingers one at a time. I wish I had friends. I wish I had friends. I wish I had friends. He chanted silently. Ten minutes passed and nothing happened. Fifteen minutes passed and still nothing. After a half hour, the man felt stupid waiting on the side of the road.

After forty five minutes, the salesman smiled and asked him if he would like to go for a walk.

“It’s such a beautiful day out. We must enjoy it.”

“No, no,” the man said quickly. “You cheated me with these faulty beads. I have no choice but to arrest you.”

The policeman walked to his car, fishing out a pair of shiny silver handcuffs. When he returned, the salesman was nowhere to be found. Just like much of his life, the policeman found himself standing alone.

http://www.cnn.com/2015/04/30/us/nationwide-freddie-gray-protests/