Two Stories About Flying

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the young seagull was alone on his ledge his two brothers and his sisters had already flow away the day before. he had been afraid to fly with them. somehow when he had taken a little run foreword to the brink of the ledge and attemped to flap his wings he become afraid. the great expence of sea streached down beneath , and it was such a long way down - miles down he felt certain that his wings would never support him ; so he bent his head and ran away back to the little hole under the ledge where he slept at night. even when each of his brothers and his little sisters whose wings where far shorter then his own, ran to brink, flapped their wings, and flew away, he failed to muster up cuorage to take that plunge which appeared to him so desperate. his father and mother had come around calling to him shrilly, upbraiding him, threatening to let him strave on his ledge unless he flew away. but for the life of him he could not move.

that was twenty-four hours ago. since then nobody had come near him. the day before, all day long, he had wached his parents flying about with his brother and sister, perfecting them in the art of flight, teaching them how to skim the waves and how to dive for fish. he had, in fact, seen his older brother catch his first herring and devour it standing on arock while his parents circled around raising a proud cackle. and all the morning the whole family had walked about on the big plateau midway down the opposite cliff taunting him with his cowerdice.

Two Stories About Flying

Haziya

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Haziya