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Mysterious Occurrences A full moon was out, and the only sound was shoes against concrete. It was a beautiful twilight, when only the night livers crawled the streets. Taking a sudden halt, our family was stopped by the neighbor. “Glorious night isn’t it.. Not for some.” He had said. Drawing our attention over to a dark mass of fluff sitting on the roof of nearby car, something so black and spherical, any random passerby would of failed to notice it at the darkness of night. “Like this fellow. I would bring it to my house, but Leo [neighbor’s dog] would bark like crazy.” Still not certain what this lump of feathers could be, I inched closer. It seemed to give a shiver, and two small beady eyes showed glistening in the moonlight. “Why it’s a bird!” I exclaimed, as it shook its wings wearily. “Most likely an expensive parrot, from the looks of it. Has multi-colored feathers, feathers around the feet and a curved beak.” observed the neighbor. “Oh, Mom can we please take the bird into the house? Please? It looks awful tired!” I begged. Sighing, my mother knew about my love of animals and my pleading for a pet, so gave in. “Very well, we will put him in the old crate and he will stay in the basement until we can figure something out with him.” The next day my mom and I decided to do some research. Was this really a parrot, or just a hoax? Black-Jack ended up being a tumbler pigeon, a show-bird. We still laugh about this today, a pigeon mistaken for a parrot. A couple of days later, Jack seemed well enough to be brought outside into the fresh air. We brought him out, and on a matter of trust, lifted the towel from the crate. He stayed inside his makeshift home, slowly eating seeds and delighting us with presents covering his newspaper floor. Maybe about a week after being brought into the Kolba’s house, my mom and I tried to get him to stand on a branch strung across the crate. After multiple attempts and fails, he just didn’t seem to have to ability to fly. Oh, the worry! A bird that forgot how to fly? Unheard of and it seemed like a terrible fate for a creature made to be in the sky. We where unable to keep a pet in the house, for the very same purposes stopping me from getting a pet in the past, my family was forced to take on the truth. He needed to find a home. And fast. We tried pet store, after pet store. None of them wanted to accept a pigeon. All in due time, hope was lost, and brains tortured, where? How? When? Until that fateful day, Black-Jack let out a cry, and soared into the sky, because that is where he belonged. Tears where shed, but more of happiness because we helped a poor animal back to where it should be. For a while later, we would look outside, into the sun, too see if Black-Jack might visit us once more.
In the morning, I roll out of bed and wonder why the sun had to get up so darn early. In the morning, unless it's a weekend, you can bet that we'll be having toast for breakfast. In the morning, instead of cheery morning greetings, grunts of, "Uhhhh... tired." are exchanged. In the morning, my sister gets to sleep in 20 extra minutes, which I'd trade anything for, because her school starts later than mine. My morning's are not perfect, but they're good enough for me.
-He is stupid, -We share blood. -He is a marine. -I love him. -He is in war. -I will never forget him. -He left me. -I miss him. -I live alone now. -I want him back -He is gone.
He is gone in war in Iraq. He is very brave and I love him. He has been there for 2 years, 3 months, and 22 days. He wrote me letters everyday. Sometime later they stopped comming. We numbered every letter we would write to each other. The last one I got was #327. That was also his birthday March 27th. Sometime later I got one again,turns out it wasn't from him. It was from his good friend Jerry that I heard of him many times. In the little note i got said that he was dead. My father was dead.
Natalie Kolba 8B
ReplyDeleteMysterious Occurrences
A full moon was out, and the only sound was shoes against concrete. It was a beautiful twilight, when only the night livers crawled the streets. Taking a sudden halt, our family was stopped by the neighbor.
“Glorious night isn’t it.. Not for some.” He had said. Drawing our attention over to a dark mass of fluff sitting on the roof of nearby car, something so black and spherical, any random passerby would of failed to notice it at the darkness of night. “Like this fellow. I would bring it to my house, but Leo [neighbor’s dog] would bark like crazy.”
Still not certain what this lump of feathers could be, I inched closer. It seemed to give a shiver, and two small beady eyes showed glistening in the moonlight.
“Why it’s a bird!” I exclaimed, as it shook its wings wearily.
“Most likely an expensive parrot, from the looks of it. Has multi-colored feathers, feathers around the feet and a curved beak.” observed the neighbor.
“Oh, Mom can we please take the bird into the house? Please? It looks awful tired!” I begged.
Sighing, my mother knew about my love of animals and my pleading for a pet, so gave in. “Very well, we will put him in the old crate and he will stay in the basement until we can figure something out with him.”
The next day my mom and I decided to do some research. Was this really a parrot, or just a hoax? Black-Jack ended up being a tumbler pigeon, a show-bird. We still laugh about this today, a pigeon mistaken for a parrot.
A couple of days later, Jack seemed well enough to be brought outside into the fresh air. We brought him out, and on a matter of trust, lifted the towel from the crate. He stayed inside his makeshift home, slowly eating seeds and delighting us with presents covering his newspaper floor.
Maybe about a week after being brought into the Kolba’s house, my mom and I tried to get him to stand on a branch strung across the crate. After multiple attempts and fails, he just didn’t seem to have to ability to fly. Oh, the worry! A bird that forgot how to fly? Unheard of and it seemed like a terrible fate for a creature made to be in the sky.
We where unable to keep a pet in the house, for the very same purposes stopping me from getting a pet in the past, my family was forced to take on the truth. He needed to find a home. And fast. We tried pet store, after pet store. None of them wanted to accept a pigeon. All in due time, hope was lost, and brains tortured, where? How? When?
Until that fateful day, Black-Jack let out a cry, and soared into the sky, because that is where he belonged. Tears where shed, but more of happiness because we helped a poor animal back to where it should be. For a while later, we would look outside, into the sun, too see if Black-Jack might visit us once more.
Autumn Haiku
ReplyDeleteThe leaf falls down slow,
Suspended in the warm air,
Like a red fairy
-Lauren
My Mornings
ReplyDeleteIn the morning, I roll out of bed and wonder why the sun had to get up so darn early.
In the morning, unless it's a weekend, you can bet that we'll be having toast for breakfast.
In the morning, instead of cheery morning greetings, grunts of, "Uhhhh... tired." are exchanged.
In the morning, my sister gets to sleep in 20 extra minutes, which I'd trade anything for, because her school starts later than mine.
My morning's are not perfect, but they're good enough for me.
-Henrietta Dow
Him.
ReplyDelete-He is stupid,
-We share blood.
-He is a marine.
-I love him.
-He is in war.
-I will never forget him.
-He left me.
-I miss him.
-I live alone now.
-I want him back
-He is gone.
He is gone in war in Iraq. He is very brave and I love him. He has been there for 2 years, 3 months, and 22 days. He wrote me letters everyday. Sometime later they stopped comming. We numbered every letter we would write to each other. The last one I got was #327. That was also his birthday March 27th. Sometime later I got one again,turns out it wasn't from him. It was from his good friend Jerry that I heard of him many times. In the little note i got said that he was dead. My father was dead.