Phoenix

• Priya Johnson, Grade 7, Tarremah Steiner School
• Short Story
• 2011

Finalist in the 'Honoured Writers of 2011' competition

There is a feather lying on my desk. The beautiful pattern of red and yellow entwining mesmerizes me. Like fire licking at a piece of aged paper, it twists and turns and circles. As I gaze at it, I can hear a strange lilting bird song, like the sound of the wind whispering in the trees and the rushing of a waterfall. I close my eyes and focus entirely on the music, stroking the feather with my finger. As I listen, I can imagine the bird, soaring above the world; beautiful and majestic, dipping and diving like a paper plane. Flying through the air faster than the speed of light, just a flash of red and gold, like a ray of sunlight; I can see the wind rushing past, ruffling the bird’s feathers. The bird spirals and spirals, higher and higher, until finally it disappears in the clouds on its way to a place where I can’t follow. I open my eyes and the music stops. Will I ever hear it again?