The tangle of rods and strings, of paper-thin material lifted lightly from his small hands. It seemed intent upon dancing away from him with every pull of the breeze. His tiny fingers clutched at the insubstantial mass with great care. He was certain it would snap and tear if he gripped too tightly. Within moments, he reached his destination. Laying his slight burden upon the beach, he held it down with a sandy toe as he fumbled to untangle the dragging cords. He felt the burning heat of the sun against the exposed skin at the back of his neck.
With the strings now in order, he stepped away from the delicate bundle, holding thread and breath. Instantly the wind caught the fibrous material, drawing it up and away, tumbling and twisting toward sure disaster. The crash of the waves amplified in his ears with the howl of the wind, a warning, a threat to rip apart this new intruder to the sky.
He almost closed his eyes, not wanting to witness the imminent destruction when suddenly, unexpectedly the cord pulled at his palm, the thread line now taunt and singing with a slight vibrating whistle.
And it rose, away from the menacing waves, past the foam and spray. The wind strained against the thin rods and brightly colored canvas, but there was no snap of breaking, nor sign of a tear, only soaring.
The glitter of the sunlit wave caps caught in his wide, lifted gaze as the fragile, lifeless creature transformed into a powerful lord of the sky, like a raptor or eagle, a bird that dominated the sky, bending currents to its will. Among the clouds, in flashes of saturated color, it flew. It twisted and dived only to right itself and soar again. His brows relaxed and a smile overtook him.
He remained there, his attention fixed upon the sky, reveling in every gust of breeze. The wind carried his treasure to nest among the clouds and lifted sweat-dampened hair from his forehead, cooling his face and neck.
Only when his arms tired and his skin had pinked from the afternoon sun did he draw the string back, reigning in this noble flight. The bird lowered smoothly, caressing the current with an effortless descent. He gathered the cords, rods, and fabric panels of the now silent creature into his arms. With new reverence for his delicate possession, he started home again.
Again, in first person.
Jacob’s Kite
The rods and strings tangled together in my hands. It’s so thin, I thought. A slight wind came by that almost lifted it from my grasp. I clutched at it as carefully as I could. I was sure the material would tear at any moment. Please don’t break. Not yet. I was almost there. Just a little bit farther.
When I reached the place, the empty beach where I usually play, I set it down. The sand was warm. I used a gritty toe to hold down my new toy while I tried to untangle the mess I’d made of the cords. The sun was hot on my neck as I bent over the stubborn knots.
After I dealt with the knots, I held the string tight in my hand. I held my breath just as tight as lifted my toe and stepped back. The wind caught the material as soon as I moved and lifted it from the ground. It was tumbling and twisting, over and under. I was sure it was about to crash back down to the beach in a heap of splinters and ripped fabric. The wind was pulling it closer to the froth at the water’s edge. I heard the wave’s crashing louder now. It wasn’t the gentle rhythm I was used to. It sounded more like a warning; a threat for daring to invade the skies.
I wanted to close my eyes. I tried to. I didn’t want to watch destruction. Then the cord, the one still held tight in my fist, was pulling at my arm. I looked down. The thread line that had laid in lazy loops beside my feet was now stretched tight in the air. It pulled so hard that it vibrated with a slight whistle.
The wind had caught it now and it rose. It rose away from the angry waves, away from the foam and spray. The wind strained against the thin rods, but they didn’t break or snap. There was also no sign of a tear in the bright canvas. Against the sun and wind, against the ocean and the waves, it only soared higher.
The sun off the wave caps glittered in my eyes as I watched the flight. My lifeless, fragile creature had transformed. It was now a powerful lord of the air. High in the air, like a raptor or an eagle, it dominated the sky. Warm air currents bent to its will. Saturated color flashed in the clouds. It twisted and dived, but I wasn’t afraid for it any longer. It knew when to turn in the wind. It knew how to climb the sky. I smiled.
My treasure was at home here. It had made itself a nest in the clouds. My face and neck was hot, but the breezes cooled me. It lifted my dampened hair from my sweaty forehead.
I don’t know how long I stayed that day, my eyes fixed skyward. Only when the sun had burned my skin pink did I pull the string in. The bird lowered smoothly. Its descent was easy, graceful. It landed softly. I gathered the rods, cords, and fabric panels into my arms no longer worried. It wasn’t as delicate I had thought.
With the strings now in order, he stepped away from the delicate bundle, holding thread and breath. Instantly the wind caught the fibrous material, drawing it up and away, tumbling and twisting toward sure disaster. The crash of the waves amplified in his ears with the howl of the wind, a warning, a threat to rip apart this new intruder to the sky.
He almost closed his eyes, not wanting to witness the imminent destruction when suddenly, unexpectedly the cord pulled at his palm, the thread line now taunt and singing with a slight vibrating whistle.
And it rose, away from the menacing waves, past the foam and spray. The wind strained against the thin rods and brightly colored canvas, but there was no snap of breaking, nor sign of a tear, only soaring.
The glitter of the sunlit wave caps caught in his wide, lifted gaze as the fragile, lifeless creature transformed into a powerful lord of the sky, like a raptor or eagle, a bird that dominated the sky, bending currents to its will. Among the clouds, in flashes of saturated color, it flew. It twisted and dived only to right itself and soar again. His brows relaxed and a smile overtook him.
He remained there, his attention fixed upon the sky, reveling in every gust of breeze. The wind carried his treasure to nest among the clouds and lifted sweat-dampened hair from his forehead, cooling his face and neck.
Only when his arms tired and his skin had pinked from the afternoon sun did he draw the string back, reigning in this noble flight. The bird lowered smoothly, caressing the current with an effortless descent. He gathered the cords, rods, and fabric panels of the now silent creature into his arms. With new reverence for his delicate possession, he started home again.
Again, in first person.
Jacob’s Kite
The rods and strings tangled together in my hands. It’s so thin, I thought. A slight wind came by that almost lifted it from my grasp. I clutched at it as carefully as I could. I was sure the material would tear at any moment. Please don’t break. Not yet. I was almost there. Just a little bit farther.
When I reached the place, the empty beach where I usually play, I set it down. The sand was warm. I used a gritty toe to hold down my new toy while I tried to untangle the mess I’d made of the cords. The sun was hot on my neck as I bent over the stubborn knots.
After I dealt with the knots, I held the string tight in my hand. I held my breath just as tight as lifted my toe and stepped back. The wind caught the material as soon as I moved and lifted it from the ground. It was tumbling and twisting, over and under. I was sure it was about to crash back down to the beach in a heap of splinters and ripped fabric. The wind was pulling it closer to the froth at the water’s edge. I heard the wave’s crashing louder now. It wasn’t the gentle rhythm I was used to. It sounded more like a warning; a threat for daring to invade the skies.
I wanted to close my eyes. I tried to. I didn’t want to watch destruction. Then the cord, the one still held tight in my fist, was pulling at my arm. I looked down. The thread line that had laid in lazy loops beside my feet was now stretched tight in the air. It pulled so hard that it vibrated with a slight whistle.
The wind had caught it now and it rose. It rose away from the angry waves, away from the foam and spray. The wind strained against the thin rods, but they didn’t break or snap. There was also no sign of a tear in the bright canvas. Against the sun and wind, against the ocean and the waves, it only soared higher.
The sun off the wave caps glittered in my eyes as I watched the flight. My lifeless, fragile creature had transformed. It was now a powerful lord of the air. High in the air, like a raptor or an eagle, it dominated the sky. Warm air currents bent to its will. Saturated color flashed in the clouds. It twisted and dived, but I wasn’t afraid for it any longer. It knew when to turn in the wind. It knew how to climb the sky. I smiled.
My treasure was at home here. It had made itself a nest in the clouds. My face and neck was hot, but the breezes cooled me. It lifted my dampened hair from my sweaty forehead.
I don’t know how long I stayed that day, my eyes fixed skyward. Only when the sun had burned my skin pink did I pull the string in. The bird lowered smoothly. Its descent was easy, graceful. It landed softly. I gathered the rods, cords, and fabric panels into my arms no longer worried. It wasn’t as delicate I had thought.
©T.Lynn Smith 2008
This was a writing exercise in which I needed to describe in 500 words a child's first encouter with a creature, substance, or object.
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