United States of America

they/them pronouns
our world has been burning for so long that we don't know the difference between arson and just living. our words can tame these fires or feed them; for my sanity and yours, lets not choose the latter.

Message to Readers

i used to believe that clouds were made from feathers. so... i wrote a story about it.
Any feedback is appreciated!

Feathered Clouds #Feathers

April 1, 2019


A single, white feather fell from the sky. It sways back and forth, then lands on the concrete. 
I look up. There is nothing except the vast, blue sky and a few clouds. That's odd, I think.
I pick up the feather. Its softness surprises me. It feels like...
"A cloud," I whisper to myself.
I shake my head. No, it can't be true. Can it? My mother was a loon. There is no way...
I try to remember the story that she used to tell me. She'd sit me down on my bed, and wrap her arms around my shoulders.
"Do you know what clouds are made of?" she'd ask me.
I'd shake my head and smile, my dimples deepening. I knew exactly what she'd say. She told me the same thing every night.
"Well," she'd say, "When a bird dies, their feathers lift into the air. And they'd form clouds."
"Mommy," I'd interrupt, "Why doesn't it rain feather, then?"
She'd smile because I asked the same question each and every night: "Oh, it does. But, it's very rare. When it does happen though, it's the most beautiful thing you'll ever see. The feathers swirl in the air and fall to the ground like a..."
"Graceful ballerina!" I'd finished because I had the whole story memorized.
She'd smile and tickle my nose: "And when they fall on your nose, they tickle."
I'd giggle. Then, I'd lean into her chest and close my eyes. At the time, I'd known that I didn't have much time. That I'd be sent to the orphanage when the time came. My mother was a poor woman, although her stories were worth millions.
 "And they're fragile," she'd continue, "Very fragile. But, aren't all things?"
She'd stroke my hair. And, reluctantly, I'd fall asleep. Each night, I would try to stay up for as long as I could. I wanted to treasure the moments that I had with my mother. But, unfortunately, I drifted to sleep. Drifted like a feather through the air.
I continue walking. I have to be nuts! There's no way...
Another feather falls from the air and tickles my nose. I look up. And they are fluttering through the air, free as they were when they were attached to the birds. 

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  • April 1, 2019 - 4:51pm (Now Viewing)

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  • Juliana

    This is such a cute idea :)

    about 1 year ago
  • PouringOutTheSun

    I really really love this, especially the middle part. You’ve made this so extremely sweet and soft and I was smiling really gently by the end of it.

    about 1 year ago