WRenby, The Reader
Recent PostsA Cygnet's Story on 9/10/2022 5:34:11 PM
I will have a few nice swan photos as part of it, and maybe a section with trivia to make it more educational.
This one will mostly be to track my progress. I'm aiming for two pages a day, or roughly 800 words. I'm sure there will be days when I do a lot more than that but I'm trying to leave ample time for school and family things without making it stressful.
I don't like having my games in sneak peek, but I'll just post the first page here as proof I'm working on it:
Pen and her husband Cob had been resting in a pond thick with reeds since late morning, diving and pulling up vegetation when they were hungry, and then preening and cleaning their feathers while caressed by the cool breezes.
It was not until the evening air began to deepen in color when the two swans took to flight. The sun hung low over a dip between the hills and washed the world in a brilliant orange. With each beat of their powerful wings--the span of them spreading six feet across in flight--the couple rose higher and higher until they were barely discernible against the fluffy white of the clouds.
Flying north, they could see the patchwork farmland spread before them, and long twining roads snaking up to the distant lights of a city. But it was westward and away from it that they turned, aiming for the gap between the hills, two white specks striving for the sinking sun.
Their destination was a isolated lake nestled against a curve in the landscape, its still waters reflecting and doubling the gold and purple glories of the clouds in a display fit for royalty. There were other swans who made their homes here, and they all began arriving from their daily errands in ones and two, touching down alongside the last rays of sunlight caressing the water.
Pen and Cob glided across the lake to a spot where a tiny inlet flowed up between the roots of seven trees, each bending slightly to touch their leafy crowns together, creating a vaulted ceiling of sunlit green and cool shadows overhead.
In a hollow by the seventh tree rested seven sleepy cygnets. Each of these young swans is covered in a pale grey fuzz, the graceful white feathers of adulthood having not grown out yet.
One of them, of course is you.
Just an aside, has anyone read The Trumpet of the Swan? It's by the author of Charlotte's Web and it's pretty old but it's the first chapter book I ever read. So in a way I always liked swans.
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Fine, I will.
Challenge accepted! But I better get points for this.
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