The Last Light Of The Watchtower

A bird fluttered away from its nest for the first time today.  It didn’t make it too far, as it was still learning how to fly, but when it stopped at the top of a rock to rest, it saw something.  In the distance, on the top of another rock, thing, there was a light glowing.  The bird tweeted to itself, and turned around, looking for the sun.  The sun was behind the bird.  Turning its head around, looking every which way, it found the moon, off to another side.  There was a light behind the rock, thing.

Each day, the bird would try its best to fly just a little bit further than the day before.  Each day, it made it just a little bit further.  Sometimes the wind would cooperate, and the bird would get to fly just a bit closer to the rock, thing, to the light at its peak.  Some days the wind wouldn’t cooperate, and the bird would flap and scramble to maintain altitude, eventually having to flutter into an emergency landing, somewhere on another rock.  A smaller one.

One day, as the sun was on its way home for the evening, the bird perked up at the sound of rushing wind.  It leapt from the nest, soaring higher than it had before.  Exhilarated, it could feel the wind rushing at its back, pushing it along.  It flapped and fluttered and beat its wings, feeling them strain against the wind.  Eyes tearing slightly, the bird saw the rock, thing, grow and grow, until it could see nothing else.  The landing was harder than it expected.

Hopping up off the stone, the bird looked around, excited to see the light, to see what had been calling it for so long, and found, nothing.  There was no light, no bright thing, no shining- oh!

The bird looked down, and saw something on the ground.  It glittered.  And faced the nest.

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