My name is Ella, my game is... writing! I love to write about nature, and I always aim to create a real mood in my writing, whether it be that warm fuzzy feeling, or a tense, and foreboding one :)
If you are ever reading one of my pieces and don't understand, or just want to provide some advice, feel free to comment. I am always looking for ways to improve and create more emotion in my writing.
Written By: Ella Hambleton
November 26, 2014
A blur of humans, ragged and clean, small and big, young and old, strutted about, twittering, hooting and squaking at eachother. Their featherless wings swung like limp brankches, sometimes intertwined with others, sometimes reaching to an item, to swipe it off the shelf before inspecting it. Their frontward facing eyes and thinly feathered heads flitted about, looking this way and that, a man with a little black box, a woman with an orange bag. And a another man, this strange man with a feathered face, staring.
The pigeon ruffled his feathers, his strange, sideways facing eyes wide and staring. The man looked up, inspecting its mottled grey and purple feathers. It cooed at him. He cooed back, earning strange looks from onlookers, but an understanding look from the pigeon. It spread its wings a lanched clumsily off its perch to swoop out of the open archway, and back to its nest. The man looked away, a twinge off dissapointment tugging at his heart. He didn't know why.
The pigeon looked back as he flew away somewhat regretting the sudden termination of his contact with the human that had understood. Humans were strange.