It was a really cold winter, nothing unusual since England was known for its icy weather, and the occasional sun that would pop out once a year. But this year felt too cold, so cold that hedgehogs were awaken from hibernation, and trees begged for their leaves to retrieve their green chlorophyll so they could cover their naked bodies from the harsh wind. Speech was deprived as lips were frozen and shut together; people had to wait until sunup to thaw them out.
It was on a cold morning, when Alcott Smith sauntered into the woods that stood on the fringes of his father’s farm, carrying an axe over his shoulder and humming along to a droning tune, as he chopped off what branches he could reach. Granted, he had not seen the genius of his plan as a cascade of fluffy icy snow hit him again and again with every swing of the axe. Shaking his head like a docile puppy, he glanced over to an object that had caught his peripheral vision.
He walked over to it, and cautiously watched the feeble creature puff out its chest in attempt to protect itself from the cold. It had an ill-favoured look, its skin bald and featherless, pink from the arctic temperature. Its arms were folded pathetically at its sides and its eyes, dark as two precious alexandrite stones, observed him intuitively. He studied the bird for a long moment and watched as it bent its head, as if welcoming him, the crests on its head flopping over.
Alcott Smith raised his axe, preparing himself to save the bird from its misery. “Please don’t hurt me.” A voice whispered to him, and with astonishment he realized that it was the bird talking to him, though its lips did not move an inch. You are bewitched, he had told the bird. “I am a blessing from above. If you promise not to hurt me, I’ll grant you one wish.” The bird whispered back. Alcott Smith, though feeling suspicious and a little confused, obliged and put his axe down.
Grant me my wish then, he taunted to the bird. The bird unblinkingly stared at him, and slowly shook its head. “I am unable to do anything without my feathers.” The bird told him. “You must get them for me if you want your one wish.” How am I to do that? He had told the bird, feeling perplexed. “My feathers grow back every time one good deed is done. I need all thirty of my feathers to grant you your wish” Alcott Smith, though feeling irritated and robbed of his wish, agreed and went home.
The next day he went back into the woods and searched for the bird, having to convince himself that he had not imagined the whole ordeal. He was surprised to find the bird exactly how he had left it, except for the barely visible stubble, which coated the bird’s entire body. My father was not feeling well, so I had gone and done all the house chores myself. He told the bird. The bird nodded at him and he watched amazed as one single branch of the bird’s crescent feather spurted out of its back, the colour a magnificent sheen of blue and green. “Well done.” The bird told him.
Days went by and Alcott Smith was growing excited as he watched the bird’s feathers spring to life. Each day bringing him closer to his awaited wish. On one evening, after running an errand for his father, Alcott Smith rushed down the snow coated road, not aware of his surrounding due to his uncontainable enthusiasm; he barricaded a man’s path and unknowingly dropped all of his purchases. Alcott Smith watched the old man struggle to bend down and pick up his vegetables that were now rolling down the road. Impatient as he wanted to go see the blossoming bird, he left the man on the road and carried on walking.
That evening when he went to visit the bird, he was shocked and hurt to see that one feather was missing. What happened to your feather? He asked the bird. “It dropped since you were unable to do one good deed today.” But I went to the market for my father! Alcott Smith exclaimed, feeling frustrated and betrayed by the bird. “And in doing so, you ignored another.” Alcott Smith thought back to his day and remembered the poor man that he had left on the road.
Alcott Smith went back home and sat down pondering over his thoughts. He realized how lucky and considerate his life had been so far and how there were unfortunate individuals out there who wished they were in his position. He later went to sit with his sick father and discovered how his lucky days were coming to an end. His father’s farm was being auctioned and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Distraught about the news, Alcott Smith stayed with his father and assisted him with his aid as much as he could.
It was after a few weeks, meeting with several acquaintances that were interested in the farm, did Alcott Smith realize that his thirty day trial was up. Curious, he walked back into the woods and searched for the bird, feeling anxious and agitated when his pursuit was fruitless. Shattered that he had not been granted his one wish, he mournfully walked back to his home.
Upon his arrival, he found his father jumping with joy as he held a sheet of paper in his hand. Alcott Smith questioningly marched over to his father, and discovered the sheet was actually a cheque. It was a generous donation from an anonymous benefactor. Confused by the random act of kindness, he turned the paper over and saw one long peacock feather attached to the back. He smiled to himself as he stroked the soft feather. After all, it was what he wished for.
.x Wandering Daydreamer x.
