Hope is the Thing With Feathers

Chapter 1

The penthouse in the city had become all too familiar for Blathers in this day and age. Looking back, he should have been thrilled to have lived in such a nice city residence, but for Blathers, at only six years old, it was not enough to keep him entertained.

With his wings spread, Blathers swooped through his family's apartment, on the lookout for his next adventure. His mother let out a screech of surprise at him half-running, half-flying across the floor. She was in the kitchen preparing the family's morning breakfast, though at the startling entrance of Blathers, she had managed to drop a few eggs on the floor.

"Blathers!" came the angry call of the young chick's father. Blathers let his feathers droop as he slowly came to a halt in the living room.

Orbit, Blathers' father, was a bulky, broad owl. He had dark red feathers and a crosshatched tan and black chest. The frustrated father slowly removed his reading glasses and stared his son in the eye. Before he could merely open his beak to begin his lecture (the fifth or sixth this week), his wife's voice cooed across the room.

"Don't be so hard on him, dear. He's getting used to his wings, that's all," his mother, Fuzzle, stated.

Orbit knew that his wife had a soft spot for their eldest. After all, Blathers bore the most resemblance to Fuzzle, and he was the first of the nest to lose his juvenile, fluffy feathers. Already his wings were becoming replaced with smooth, silky feathers, though for the time being, Blathers' wings were in an awkward, in-between stage where he could not yet lift his feet a few inches off the ground without crashing down.

"The downstairs neighbors won't like the sound of crashing feet," Orbit muttered as he returned to his book.

Whatever lecture Orbit had been planning to give Blathers had passed, and so Blathers was back to his usual nonsense, making no effort whatsoever to help his mother clean the eggshells. She simply wiped them away with a wing and was back to cooking, though Blathers did not have much of an appetite. He had planned to spend the whole morning on the rooftop, where he liked to spy on the civilians below. He liked to imagine what treasures they had in their pockets and what exciting place they were off to.

Trips outside of the penthouse were too few for Blathers' liking. He had only just begun school, but that new destination had grown tiring after a week's worth of visits. Sometimes, his mother liked to take him to the grocery store, but they always had to bring Celeste, who took a much longer time getting than ready than her older brother.

Celeste was following him now on her tiny feet, letting out peeps here and there as she followed her brother. Celeste, a few years younger than Blathers, looked more similar to Orbit, henceforth making her Orbit's favorite. However, Blathers had to be Celeste's favorite of the family. Blathers could not get a second of peace when she was awake and active. Ever since she could walk, she hopped around, following Blathers on his adventures in the penthouse.

"Mommy, I don't want Celeste following me," Blathers complained.

"Take your sister up with you. She needs some fresh air," Orbit simply said.

Blathers hoped when he was older, Celeste wouldn't continue to follow him around. He had only known her for three years, and she was already a nuisance. The affection she felt for her brother, though Blathers' parents found it cute, only annoyed the young owl.

"I would check the sandbox while you're up there!" Fuzzle called.

A strange suggestion, but Blathers supposed it wouldn't hurt to check. He climbed up the ladder to the rooftop, assisting Celeste as she waddled behind him. He opened the hatch and squinted, using one of his wings to shield the sun from his face. Like most owls, Blathers was rather well-accustomed to the night, which was why his parents often kept the blinds shut and only turned on a lamp or two when necessary.