Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Fairy Tale / Folk Tale
- Published: 08/13/2024
The healing feather.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States“Just hold this between your teeth. And close your eyes.”
I had no choice. If I opened my eyes, I would see my bones sticking out through my jeans. The pain was making me nauseous- and if I saw those yellow bones covered in blood…well, no way could I stop myself from throwing up. And throwing up would have meant I would move. And moving was the last thing I wanted to do.
So I did what the old man said. I put the feather between my teeth, bit down, and closed my eyes. I heard a flutter of wings. The smell of fresh strawberries, and I swear the gentlest of touches against my cheek. I almost opened my eyes, but soft fingers were holding them shut. So I did something strange….I went to sleep.
It was the smell that woke me. It wasn’t bacon. No. It was coffee. And the other smell? It couldn’t be, could it? It was: blueberry pancakes. And where in God’s creation did someone find blueberries in the middle of a rock pile, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere.
My mouth watered all on its own. One smell and I was all Pavlovian. It took the dogs weeks to learn to drool on command. I guess I must be smarter than a dog. It only took one whiff for me to salivate. I was hungry. No, that is not the right word. Ravenous? Close, but still too weak. Starving wasn’t the right word either. I just knew I had to eat…a lot…and now.
I swear I didn’t say anything out loud. But the old man smiled and handed me a plate. On that plate were six or eight blueberry pancakes. Maple syrup. WTF? And whip cream too. I hesitated.
The old man spoke:
“It isn’t a dream. It is food. A very special food. Every nutrient your body needs is in it. And right now, that is a lot. You have new bones, new skin, and several muscles that are stronger now. Eat. “
Dream or no dream. I have no idea what the Old Man was babbling about, but the smell of the rich flavorful pancakes was overwhelming. I ate. And ate. And ate. Only stopping to drink the coffee. And what Coffee. It was not only the best coffee I had ever tasted, it had to be the best coffee in the World. I told the old man that. He laughed.
“Close. No cigar. But Close.”
Again, he laughed.
I didn’t care. I ate some more. Drank some more. And then…fell asleep.
I woke up. The old man handed me a pack. Then he handed me three gallon jugs. One had coffee (Thank you God!) One had water. And the third…had…soup?
The old man saw my look and laughed. He shook his head slightly.
“Not soup. Broth. It will take you three days of hard walking to get to a road where someone will find you. See that tree? Just walk to it. The road is there.”
I turned in surprise. A tree? In a desert. In the middle of scattered rocks. In the middle of nowhere? Yet there it was. A tall tree. A really tall three. If it was three days of hard walking away…it must be gigantic. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing did. If this was a dream…it was the longest, most detailed, and crazy dream I have ever had.
The old man laughed again. I swear he could read my thoughts.
“No. This is not a dream. It is very real. My job was to heal you. I did. Now your job is to find out why you survived at all. You have to find your life’s purpose. Not everyone gets saved by the Feather. You, it appears, have been chosen.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. Now go!”
“But I don’t have a feather. I remember you putting one in my mouth. I thought it was a quill or something.”
The old man laughed again. This time he did something strange. He took out a pocket mirror. You know the kind women have in those little powder things they carry in their purses. He handed it to me. I looked. I looked again. My hand sprung to my forehead all on its own.
A feather. A perfect feather arched from the space between my left temple and my eyebrow. It arched up over my forehead, and the tip just barely touched the space on the opposite side of my face. No one could miss it. No one could mistake it. It was a feather. Or rather the etching of one. I rubbed it…hard. It stayed pristine.
‘I don’t understand.”
The old man shrugged.
“I don’t either. The healing feather doesn’t appear often. You are the first …since…well. Me. “
With that the old man lifted his hat off his head. A feather, just like mine, adorned his forehead. His was old with age, but still as sharp as the day it was made, invoked, or placed…whatever.
“So what does it mean?”
“It is a healing feather. That is all I can tell you. Whether it is to heal you, someone else, or the whole world…well, that if for you to discover. Now…go!”
Somehow his words made me move. I got up, slung the pack over my shoulders, hung the three jugs across the back of it. And off I went.
Three days later…I found the road. The tree was enormous. I sat under the shade for hours until a car with three girls in it pulled over in a panic.
“What are you doing out here? Get in. We haven’t seen anyone for hours. Cindy is sick. We have to get her to a hospital. You are going to die in this heat. Hurry…get in…we shouldn’t have stopped. I didn’t want to, but Becky (flicking her eyes to the girl in the back seat holding a very sickly looking redhead on her lap) said we aren’t leaving anyone out here to die. Now get in.”
I hopped in. As I did I told them it was okay.
“I had plenty of water, and the shade from the tree was marvelous.”
“What tree?”
Even the sick red head opened her eyes and joined in a second time.
“What tree?!”
I looked back. There wasn’t any tree. I didn’t know what to say.
The girl driving stared at me so long I had to remind her to look at the road.
“Sorry. I just never saw a tattoo made out of crystal before.”
“What?”
“Your tattoo. The one on your forehead. It looks like a snowflake, if snowflakes were made like feathers.”
I pulled the mirror down. It did look like a crystal feather. And it was glowing. As soon as it started to glow, I knew what to do.
I climbed in the back seat.
“It is okay. She will be fine. Just take this and put it in her mouth.“
I took the feather from my forehead. Handed it to Becky. She placed it in the red heads mouth. I felt calm. I smelled strawberries, my hand floated to hold her eyes closed.
I saw the old man wave from a nearby rock outcropping.
I knew my future. I would heal people. Or the feather would. Time went by. We pulled over. I fed the red head (and the others) blueberry pancakes…and coffee.
“Where did you get this? (Pointing to her cup of coffee) It is the best cup of coffee in the World.“
I could hear the old man laughing. I just smiled.
“Close. No cigar. But close."
The healing feather.(Kevin Hughes)
“Just hold this between your teeth. And close your eyes.”
I had no choice. If I opened my eyes, I would see my bones sticking out through my jeans. The pain was making me nauseous- and if I saw those yellow bones covered in blood…well, no way could I stop myself from throwing up. And throwing up would have meant I would move. And moving was the last thing I wanted to do.
So I did what the old man said. I put the feather between my teeth, bit down, and closed my eyes. I heard a flutter of wings. The smell of fresh strawberries, and I swear the gentlest of touches against my cheek. I almost opened my eyes, but soft fingers were holding them shut. So I did something strange….I went to sleep.
It was the smell that woke me. It wasn’t bacon. No. It was coffee. And the other smell? It couldn’t be, could it? It was: blueberry pancakes. And where in God’s creation did someone find blueberries in the middle of a rock pile, in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere.
My mouth watered all on its own. One smell and I was all Pavlovian. It took the dogs weeks to learn to drool on command. I guess I must be smarter than a dog. It only took one whiff for me to salivate. I was hungry. No, that is not the right word. Ravenous? Close, but still too weak. Starving wasn’t the right word either. I just knew I had to eat…a lot…and now.
I swear I didn’t say anything out loud. But the old man smiled and handed me a plate. On that plate were six or eight blueberry pancakes. Maple syrup. WTF? And whip cream too. I hesitated.
The old man spoke:
“It isn’t a dream. It is food. A very special food. Every nutrient your body needs is in it. And right now, that is a lot. You have new bones, new skin, and several muscles that are stronger now. Eat. “
Dream or no dream. I have no idea what the Old Man was babbling about, but the smell of the rich flavorful pancakes was overwhelming. I ate. And ate. And ate. Only stopping to drink the coffee. And what Coffee. It was not only the best coffee I had ever tasted, it had to be the best coffee in the World. I told the old man that. He laughed.
“Close. No cigar. But Close.”
Again, he laughed.
I didn’t care. I ate some more. Drank some more. And then…fell asleep.
I woke up. The old man handed me a pack. Then he handed me three gallon jugs. One had coffee (Thank you God!) One had water. And the third…had…soup?
The old man saw my look and laughed. He shook his head slightly.
“Not soup. Broth. It will take you three days of hard walking to get to a road where someone will find you. See that tree? Just walk to it. The road is there.”
I turned in surprise. A tree? In a desert. In the middle of scattered rocks. In the middle of nowhere? Yet there it was. A tall tree. A really tall three. If it was three days of hard walking away…it must be gigantic. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing did. If this was a dream…it was the longest, most detailed, and crazy dream I have ever had.
The old man laughed again. I swear he could read my thoughts.
“No. This is not a dream. It is very real. My job was to heal you. I did. Now your job is to find out why you survived at all. You have to find your life’s purpose. Not everyone gets saved by the Feather. You, it appears, have been chosen.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. Now go!”
“But I don’t have a feather. I remember you putting one in my mouth. I thought it was a quill or something.”
The old man laughed again. This time he did something strange. He took out a pocket mirror. You know the kind women have in those little powder things they carry in their purses. He handed it to me. I looked. I looked again. My hand sprung to my forehead all on its own.
A feather. A perfect feather arched from the space between my left temple and my eyebrow. It arched up over my forehead, and the tip just barely touched the space on the opposite side of my face. No one could miss it. No one could mistake it. It was a feather. Or rather the etching of one. I rubbed it…hard. It stayed pristine.
‘I don’t understand.”
The old man shrugged.
“I don’t either. The healing feather doesn’t appear often. You are the first …since…well. Me. “
With that the old man lifted his hat off his head. A feather, just like mine, adorned his forehead. His was old with age, but still as sharp as the day it was made, invoked, or placed…whatever.
“So what does it mean?”
“It is a healing feather. That is all I can tell you. Whether it is to heal you, someone else, or the whole world…well, that if for you to discover. Now…go!”
Somehow his words made me move. I got up, slung the pack over my shoulders, hung the three jugs across the back of it. And off I went.
Three days later…I found the road. The tree was enormous. I sat under the shade for hours until a car with three girls in it pulled over in a panic.
“What are you doing out here? Get in. We haven’t seen anyone for hours. Cindy is sick. We have to get her to a hospital. You are going to die in this heat. Hurry…get in…we shouldn’t have stopped. I didn’t want to, but Becky (flicking her eyes to the girl in the back seat holding a very sickly looking redhead on her lap) said we aren’t leaving anyone out here to die. Now get in.”
I hopped in. As I did I told them it was okay.
“I had plenty of water, and the shade from the tree was marvelous.”
“What tree?”
Even the sick red head opened her eyes and joined in a second time.
“What tree?!”
I looked back. There wasn’t any tree. I didn’t know what to say.
The girl driving stared at me so long I had to remind her to look at the road.
“Sorry. I just never saw a tattoo made out of crystal before.”
“What?”
“Your tattoo. The one on your forehead. It looks like a snowflake, if snowflakes were made like feathers.”
I pulled the mirror down. It did look like a crystal feather. And it was glowing. As soon as it started to glow, I knew what to do.
I climbed in the back seat.
“It is okay. She will be fine. Just take this and put it in her mouth.“
I took the feather from my forehead. Handed it to Becky. She placed it in the red heads mouth. I felt calm. I smelled strawberries, my hand floated to hold her eyes closed.
I saw the old man wave from a nearby rock outcropping.
I knew my future. I would heal people. Or the feather would. Time went by. We pulled over. I fed the red head (and the others) blueberry pancakes…and coffee.
“Where did you get this? (Pointing to her cup of coffee) It is the best cup of coffee in the World.“
I could hear the old man laughing. I just smiled.
“Close. No cigar. But close."
- Share this story on
- 3
Ed DeRousse
09/09/2024I always enjoy your stories. There are several unanswered questions. What they are and the answers to them are most likely different for different individuals. But that is the beauty of this story. This one is a particularly good "pay it forward" story.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
09/10/2024Thanks Ed,
That is both an astute and profound comment you made. Yes most of us find different answers to what seems like the same question. And that is a story in and of itself. Finding common ground takes effort, for each individual is unique, and finding out we see things the same way as another person is one of those quiet miracles we all ignore.
You are a deep thinker. And I thank you.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
CPlatt
09/09/2024Such an intriguing story, Kevin. Really enjoyed it. Congrats on star of the day! Cheers, Chris.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
09/09/2024Thanks CPlatt,
As you and I have talked about before, how a story idea comes from out of nowhere just from something mundane. In this case, I found a seagull feather in a parking lot, gave it to a kid walking with her Mom, and it made their day. Result? A feather in my cap. LOL
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Joel Kiula
09/09/2024Increadible story. I always love how you write your stories and this is the best one as well.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Cheryl Ryan
09/08/2024This is a great story with an interesting plot. The author never disappoints.
Thank you for sharing!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Barry
09/08/2024I liked this story very, very, very, very much! It reads like a bit of fiction that took on a life of its own, where the writer held the pen but some higher power did all the heavy lifting. The Enlish writer W.S. Muagham (Of Human Bondage) said that a good plot was everything. This was a good plot.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
09/08/2024Aloha Barry,
Every Author would love the kind of comment you left ...and I am one of them!
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
09/07/2024A tale as soft and lovely as a feather... true magic. Happy short story star of the day, Kevin.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
09/08/2024Gee Whilikers JD, I am running out of ways to thank you.
Thanks for putting another feather in my cap.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Denise Arnault
08/15/2024Very nice! I know what you mean about inspiration. I see or hear a line or something and think...That would make a good story! Congrats on yours!!!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
08/15/2024Thanks Denise,
Like Christopher said: "inspiration can come from anywhere." Even the mundane and ordinary...wait, is that redundant? LOL
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
08/14/2024Aloha Chris,
I found a seagull feather on the Grocery Store parking lot. I gave it to some kids with their Mom. And went home and wrote the story. Funny how something so trivial can trigger a story.
Smiles, Kevin
COMMENTS (10)