Once Upon a Story [ INCONSISTENT UPDATES ]

Bluebird •

❝ 🩵 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳 ❞

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟗𝟒𝟎

               As a child, a bluebird would leave small gifts
               of pebbles, flowers, feathers, and scrap
               metal at your window. Years later at a
gallery opening, you come across a
handsome and mysterious mixed media
artist whose compositions featuring pebbles,
flowers, feathers, and scrap metal are
intriguingly familiar.

                      •  Urban fantasy, fantasy romance
                                               𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘣

The night brought icy gales, a delivery straight from the North. In the sky, clouds gathered tightly, feeding the storm. Since the early morning, it snowed so vigorously that people were locked inside their homes. Amidst the people asleep, one little girl was wide awake. Well, as awake as a twelve-year-old girl could be past her bedtime.

He won't come, she thought, counting the millions upon millions of snowflakes twirling in the sky. It was a ballet that was so graceful yet violent, whipping the barren trees. She loved watching it play out. Especially tonight. It was her birthday and she had been eagerly waiting for someone to appear.

At an hour past midnight, she had gathered her blanket around her shoulders and sat by her window. The soft blue glow of ice and snow reflected on her maroon skin. Cream freckles spotted her cheeks like the crystal piling below. Her eyes, bright like dandelions, searched the sky as she fiddled with her auburn-tinted curls, wondering.

"Where are you?" Her mouth stretched into a wide yawn. She was sleepy, but she wanted to meet him again; the little bluebird that left gifts at her window each birthday. Last year, she received a bracelet tied together with feathers and flowers. The year before that, he left her a charm: a small sun-catcher made of pebbles, scrap metal and winter blooms hooked to shimmering down feathers. His gifts grew more intricate as time passed, and she wished to see how her little bluebird had grown. She had seen him as a toddler and still remembered his blue feathers tinged with black, silver and white. She still treasured the first gift he gave her.

A pebble with a name engraved on the surface.

𝒜𝓏𝓊𝓇𝒶.

"Azula" she called him at the time. Since that day, similar items appeared by her window every year, on her birthday. But Azura was never there with them. Tonight, she hoped to catch him, but the time lengthened and her eyes grew heavy. She rested her head on her crossed arms, hoping the storm would cease before morning. Maybe, then, he would appear.