A Fluttery Feeling

George

When I was eight years old, I used to have an enormous tree in my backyard. It somehow snaked its way up to the sky and clings to the clouds. It can be seen miles beyond miles away from the street I was in. I called it Mabel. Now that I am 11 and a half, I call it “The Tree'' or “You know what” or anything you may refer to “Thing” because “Mabel” is a name for your dog or your cat or maybe your guinea pig and fish even though I do not think fish would be happy with the name. Me and my friend Tim like to climb it but we never reach the end. Even when I actually sort of make up the thin streaks of the finish in the distance I always hear my mother shouting “Dinners ready!” And that just proves we had been climbing that “Thing” for quite a while because we started in the morning. I don't really like the tree. It has a sort of wise factor to it. I do not like people who are smarter than me. That is why I am mad at my teacher this year for putting me in the second to last maths group. Even worse, Tim did not get in the same group of me. To make THAT worse, he is in the top maths group which is probably bugging me the most. Anyway, today I have a wicked plan. I am going to carve into the scalp of this “Tree'' Of course my family is quite poor so Tim is going to bring the equipment. I wait for a tiny bit even though it was not really a wait because I saw him in the distance shortly.

TIM

“Hi George'' I wheeze. This equipment is heavy. I am literally thinking in my brain that I could maybe come first or second in one of those olympic games. I drag the stuff into George’s backyard and sat down for a few seconds because I had stretched three or so muscles. I can only rest for a few seconds because George’s voice kicks in saying “Up you get lazybones!” I heave myself back up again but collapse. OUCH! maybe we could do this carving another day.

Sunday

I wake up to a few birds perched in that up-to-no-good tree.

My muscles have become no better today but I go down to his house anyway. He meets me a few metres away from his house and helps me carry everything over the fence. When everything is out of the bag, Me and George see what is inside;

1. A carving thing. (For me)
2. Another carving thing. (For George)
3. Wait I think that is just a stick that found its way in the bag. Ok that is all.

We chat for a tiny bit while we sharpen our things on a rock. I talk to him about what I am going to draw on it. I said maybe some eyes and humongous ears to make him look silly. George said he would put a nose on it that made him look like pinocchio. Then we get to work.

George.

Ok Tim is in a hurry to get the job done. Apparently, he has to do some chores for his mum. Obviously for money but still a good deed anyhow. He races up until he is nearly there. In the time I got to his spot, I laughed my head off. Well not LITERALLY but it was really funny. “HMMM” I began. “I think the eyes look quite ghastly.” Me and Tim laughed for a while until he stopped short. “What is it?” I ask. “The… the… TREE!!!” He yelps. Then he runs. Until suddenly he fell. From the branch rising. Was this tree alive? Tim rolls onto the floor unconscious.

“George! Lunch is ready!” yells my mother as she opens the door. She quiets down for a tiny bit, letting out a little gasp of fright then I hear an overwhelming noise that makes my ears ring “WHAT DID YOU DO TO TIM?!” she screams. Then I hear another noise. Must have been my ears ringing. But then I turn around and where the body of Tim was is not there any more. It is now a little bird.

Tim

I stretch my arms to the sky. I feel different. Wait, my arms are no arms. They are wings. Sparrow wings to be precise and I can see what has happened. When I carved that smile face onto the tree and the ears it must have come to life. And now it has turned me into a common sparrow. I can tell that George will be the next aim. Sorry George.

George

I gasp. Just looking at the sparrow on the grass makes me want to wake up and think it is all a nightmare. I wish it was one. When I pinch myself I feel the red hot flames sizzle through me giving me an electric feel forming a red dot on the place where I did it so this is all real. I am blinking in astonishment. Did that tree just turn my friend into a bird? Well this “Thing” will be in for it.

It won’t know how much.

While Mum calls Tim’s parents I run out to grab the axe, The only equipment I have at my house. I drag it across the dirt then I am about to cut into the scalp giving it the final blow when a fluttery feeling comes over me making my eyes close I try to squeeze them open I really do. I do not want to be turned into a sparrow. But then it just happens. I fall asleep.

I do not want to open my eyes. I know what I am in for. feel the wings instead of arms. I feel

the beak attached to my nose. I know I am a bird. I know how bad this is. And it is bad. I look next to me. Poor Tim is lying on the ground too. He starts to squawk at me like a bird but then I understand what he is saying. This is creepy. I told him about how much I hate this tree but all that came out was “Squawk Squeak CHEEP!” I am absolutely faint. Tim nods and says a few bird language words and I still find myself understanding them. I need to make a stupid old nest now. And guess what? The only tree we can use is THE TREE. The tree that did all this. It looks like I have to live my whole life in this tree. Well Mabel, looks like you scored.

I hate this fluttery feeling