Hi Peeps.
I wrote this short story to be read to older students (years 3-7) to challenge them with ideas introduced from the book "Polly's Little Kite". It links an important christian event into the story in a subtle way that expands the children's picture book allegory even further.
As I am more "an ideas man" than a literary guy, I would value any comments or ideas from people who have a greater grasp of English and the rules that apply. Please if you see any mistakes or problems with the text, leave a comment.
Little Kite's Dark Night.
by Brian Maunder 2014
Little Kite
was so, so scared.
He listened. It was quiet.
He listened. It was quiet.
His ears
strained to hear the sound that woke him from his tormented sleep.
Trees around
him clicked. Their branches scratched and scraped as the silent breeze forced
life into their black ghostly forms.
At night, when
all you can see are shadows and the silence creeps in on darkness, you become
distinctly aware of how alone you are. Alone, in the silent dark world.
Little Kite
listened, but all he could hear were the echoes of his broken heart.
Thoughts of
his former life filled his mind. Beautiful memories of a time long ago mocked
his aching soul. He would never be a part of that world again. He lost it all
when he lost Polly. Lost it all. He reached with desperation into the cruel
dream, but each time he touched her hand, the apparition vanished and his heart
broke again.
The string
that bound Little Kite and Polly together used to be so strong. What happened
to it? That wonderful connection. That bond of love. It was his lifeline. When
the string was strong he used to fly and zoom, rise and soar like an angel.
What caused
the string to break? Was it neglect? Maybe he didn’t care enough. Was it anger
or resentment? Fear? Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter now. The string was
broken and she was gone. All he had now was his aloneness and this night.
A steady wind blew through the darkness causing Little Kite's tattered fabric to sway
as he dangled in the tree. The moon hid behind clouds, sometimes courageously
peeping out and dispersing glowing light onto the strong cross which held
Little Kite together. A night owl turned his head.
There’s that
sound again. The sound that woke him.
Little Kite’s ears searched the broken silence. Yes. He could hear it now.
A strange wailing sound, floated like a whisper on the dance of the breese. At first, Little Kite wasn't sure if it was all in his mind. Maybe his heart was amplifying his dreams and memories into a pseudo reality. But the more he listened the more he knew it was real. Sometimes louder, sometimes softer but it was definitely not his imagination. It was the beautiful sound of a voice singing. And it wasn’t just anyone’s voice. It was Polly’s voice. He was sure of it. His lovely Polly singing a sweet, sweet melody. Never before had he heard such a beautiful sound.
"How strange", Little Kite thought. "Why would she be singing now? At night? What was so special about this dark evening that would cause her to sing?"
The words of her distant song filled his brokenness as he dangled from the tree.
Little Kite’s ears searched the broken silence. Yes. He could hear it now.
A strange wailing sound, floated like a whisper on the dance of the breese. At first, Little Kite wasn't sure if it was all in his mind. Maybe his heart was amplifying his dreams and memories into a pseudo reality. But the more he listened the more he knew it was real. Sometimes louder, sometimes softer but it was definitely not his imagination. It was the beautiful sound of a voice singing. And it wasn’t just anyone’s voice. It was Polly’s voice. He was sure of it. His lovely Polly singing a sweet, sweet melody. Never before had he heard such a beautiful sound.
"How strange", Little Kite thought. "Why would she be singing now? At night? What was so special about this dark evening that would cause her to sing?"
The words of her distant song filled his brokenness as he dangled from the tree.
Silent night. Holy night.
All is calm. All is bright.
Little Kite's
eyes filled with tears as his heart surrendered to the beauty of the sound. A
wave of emotion flooded his soul with the realisation that a new future was
possible. A new wonderful future. He had hope. He had glorious, wonderful, empowering hope. This precious night. This beautiful night had given him hope.
Brian Maunder is the author-illustrator of
the children's picture book "Polly's Little Kite".
Website: brianmaunder.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/PollysLittleKite
