The Still Feather
A story perfect for ages 12-14 with audio book, debates, questions and more.
Here are the first two chapters. At the end you will find a link to download the complete story as a PDF.
The complete audio book is also available here.
Chapter 1
A feather in the air
Becca was seven when she first saw the feather. It was a light gray feather with a snow-white tip. It hung in the air, ten feet above her. Its stem pointed straight down and its tip straight up. It was really big.
She was lying on her back, under the oak tree, at the end of the garden. The grass was dry and poked her skin through her white dress. It was a windy day. The wind blew the long grass, and the wind blew Becca’s hair around her eyes. Becca looked straight up at the feather. The wind didn’t move it.
Becca looked at the feather, waiting for it to drop. Of course, she didn’t understand gravity, but she knew that the feather should fall and land next to her. It didn’t. So, Becca stood up, brushed some grass from her white dress, and went inside the house to tell her mother.
Her mom was watching a quiz show on TV.
“Mom,” said Becca. “Come and have a look at a strange feather in the garden.”
Her mom didn’t turn round. “I’m watching my show Rebecca. Can you wait ten minutes?”
Becca went back outside. The feather was still there. Hanging in the air. Not moving.
Ten minutes later, Becca went inside again. Her mom was making a cup of tea in the kitchen. “Mom, you said you’d come out and look at the feather after your show.”
Her mom sighed and put down her teacup. “If I must,” she said and followed Becca outside.
The feather was gone. And it wasn’t on the grass.
“It was up there,” said Becca, “next to the tree.”
“Really?” said her mom. “A feather next to a tree. Amazing. Now can I go back inside?”
“But it wasn’t moving,” said Becca.
“Really?” said her mom. “Not moving. Fantastic. Right, time for my cup of tea.”
And Becca’s mom went back inside.
Becca lay back down on the grass and watched the space where the feather had been for a few minutes. It didn’t come back.
***
When Becca was twelve, she saw the feather again. It had just started to rain, so Becca ran outside to pick up some of her stuff that she didn’t want to get wet. She looked up to watch a bird flying to the oak tree and there it was. Hanging. Still.
At that moment, she remembered seeing the feather before. Now she was twelve, Becca knew a bit more about life. She knew that anything floating in air must be connected to something or be as light as one of the bubbles you make with washing up liquid. But the feather was big, maybe fifteen inches or so, and she couldn’t see a spider’s web or anything that might be holding it up. She dropped her stuff and ran inside.
Her mom wasn’t watching TV or in the kitchen. Becca stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted up. “Mom! Are you up there?”
“I’m getting changed for work!” her mom yelled back.
Becca’s mom was a bingo caller.
“Come and look at a weird feather in the garden.”
Her mom poked her head from the bedroom door.
“What is it with you and feathers?” She was wearing a bath towel.
“You’ve got to be quick,” said Becca. “I don’t want the feather to go away before you can see it.”
Her mom rolled her eyes. “Oh my life! Rebecca, I am getting ready for work. If you want me to see this feather, why don’t you bring it up here?”
Becca gave up. She ran outside again.
The feather was still there. The rain was falling on it but not pushing it down. The drops just rolled down the white stem or bounced off.
Becca had an idea and ran into the kitchen. Her mom’s phone was there. She grabbed it and ran out.
Becca spread her fingers until the feather filled the screen. Click. She had the feather’s picture. As she was looking at the picture, she heard a faint popping sound. She looked up and the feather was gone. She got to her hands and knees and looked on the ground. It wasn’t there. She went back inside to wait for her mom to finish getting dressed.
When her mom came downstairs in her bingo caller’s suit, she looked at Becca’s knees and took in a big breath. Becca was covered in mud.
“What on earth do you think you are doing? Look at my floor! You’ve walked mud everywhere!”
Becca looked at the floor. In her excitement about the feather, she had forgotten to take off her muddy shoes and had made the kitchen very brown.
“I’ll clean it,” she said.
“You sure will! I’ll be back in four hours from my shift and I want this place, and you, clean.”
“OK, OK. But look at this.” Becca held out the phone. Her mom took it.
“I told you not to touch my phone. You’ll only break it.”
“It’s not broken. Just look at the picture I took.”
Her mum looked. “Yes dear. Very pretty. A feather. Now can I go to work?”
“But you don’t understand. Look, it’s totally still.”
Her mom looked at her silently for a minute and then said slowly. “Yes darling. It is still. Clever girl! But this isn’t a movie, it’s a picture. A picture. Do you see?”
Becca gave up again.
Chapter 2
The feather returns
A year passed. And then on December the 30th, snow fell in the evening.
Becca’s mom was working late, and Becca spent an hour with her nose pressed against the window watching the flakes swirl and fall.
The white softness made her think about the feather for the first time in months.
Of course, her mom had deleted the picture on the phone ages ago. But Becca remembered the still feather. She put on her slippers and a scarf and walked into the garden. The flakes of ice drifted on to her cheek and hands and melted almost immediately with tiny ice stings.
The snow made squeaky noises under her slippers, like when you rub your finger on a new sofa.
When she got to the bottom of the oak she looked up and there was the feather, exactly as she remembered it.
She stood, her neck arched back and her mouth open. Snow had settled on the feather making it look bigger than before. Snow wisped its way into her mouth. It tasted of cold air and wet.
She swallowed and ran back into the house. She could take another photo. Her mom’s phone wasn’t there – she must have taken it to work.
Becca ran back out again – the feather was still there. The feather was there, and there was no one to see it! It would vanish again and then what? Just a memory like before and nobody would believe her. That wasn’t going to happen. Not this time.
She went and stood directly under the feather. It was about six feet above her head. Even with her arms stretched up, she was not even close to reaching it.
She looked around. A bench. She pulled the bench over and stood on it. It wobbled under her. It was still too far away. But with the extra height she could see that there was nothing - no spider thread - nothing - to hold it up. It just hung – still and white like the moon.
She jumped off the bench and looked around again. Her mom had planted a little tree in a big clay pot last spring. It looked dead. Becca went over and tipped the pot over. The dead tree fell out and then she used her fingers to pull out the dry soil. It hurt her fingernails – the soil was half frozen. Then she carried the heavy pot over to the bench and with a grunt managed to place it in the middle of the bench.
Becca climbed onto the bench and then onto the upended pot. It jiggled violently and she put her arms out like gymnasts do to balance. It worked and she took a deep breath. She stood on the tips of her toes and reached as high as she could with her right hand.
Her fingers brushed the stem of the feather – but it didn’t move. She stretched even higher and her fingertips and then whole hand was touching and holding the feather. It felt like a normal feather, but it didn’t move. It felt like it was stuck – but stuck to what? There was nothing there!
She closed her hand until it was a fist around the feather and then pulled. Nothing. She pulled down hard, with all her strength, and then the pot beneath her tumbled away and suddenly she found herself hanging in the air, holding on to the feather with one hand, the other waving madly around her. She laughed out loud. If only her mom could see her now. She would think it was magic or maybe a ghost had lifted her up.
And then the feather moved. She felt it. Just the tiniest movement towards her. She looked up. There was another feather joined to it now. Two feathers!
She swung her left hand up to grab her right hand. Now she had a stronger grip. She used her legs to swing out and try and pull down. She swung her legs high – forwards and backwards.
There was a noise. A high noise and then a loud pop and she was falling – hands still gripped over each other and the feather. She closed her eyes and tumbled. She felt the bench crash from under her and then she was lying on her back. The cold snow chilling through her shirt.
Something very heavy had landed on top of her. Maybe the bench had tipped onto her. She opened her eyes. Inches from her eyes was a girl’s face. A face with dark olive skin and green eyes. The eyes were wide. She yelled and the face yelled back. Becca put her hands under the body on top of her and pushed. The person fell off her to one side and Becca jumped up.
Lying on the ground in front of her was a naked girl with short dark hair. Her arms were up by her face as though trying to protect herself. She was framed by the white snow and Becca thought she was beautiful – and then she stopped thinking. As the girl pushed herself up into a sitting position feathers emerged from the snow. Not just one or two, but hundreds. The girl had wings attached to her back! Large white wings that moved and stretched as the girl moved.
Becca took a step back and then another. And then she turned to run.
Unfortunately, the oak tree was right behind her and she ran, nose first, right into the trunk. Smack!
***
Becca’s head hurt. Her head really hurt – like there was a baby with a toy hammer banging on both her temples at the same time. She opened her eyes. There was somebody above her, looking at her. The eyes were green, kind and worried. She remembered something and then her stomach turned over and she just managed to roll herself to one side before she was sick. The sick fell into the snow and melted a little round hole. She picked up a handful of snow and wiped at her mouth. She was outside. It was snowing. She was outside. What was she doing outside?
She lay back down again. She felt a leg under her head. It was soft. She looked up at green eyes.
“Oh my life!” Becca jumped up and then felt the world swim around her. She sat back down again. The naked girl with the wings was looking at her – head tilted to one side.
“What are you?” Becca started to say but was interrupted by more sick. This time the girl picked up snow and wiped at her mouth.
“Thank you,” said Becca when she could speak.
The girl put her arms around Becca and pulled her towards her. Becca could feel her skin, hot and cold at the same time. And for a moment she just lay in the girl’s arms. Then she pulled away. She put out a hand and touched the wings. They were real. They felt alive. Then the girl sneezed – it was such a normal thing to do, that Becca jumped. The wings vibrated and shook with the sneeze.
“You’re cold,” said Becca. “I don’t know what you are, but I know you are cold. Let’s go inside and get you warm.”
She took the girl’s hand, and together they walked inside.
***
“What’s your name?” asked Becca.
The girl was standing in the corner of her room, looking at her with her head tilted to one side.
Becca had wrapped a dressing gown around her and she looked warmer.
“Your name?”
Becca tried again. “My name,” Becca pointed to her chest, “is …” she paused. What was her name? Her thoughts were spinning so wildly it was hard to remember.
“… Rebecca. You can call me Becca. What’s your name?”
The girl turned her head and looked around the room. Her eyes were very wide. She doesn’t understand me, thought Becca.
Becca couldn’t take her eyes off the wings. The girl was some kind of bird thing, like pictures of angels and fairies in books. But they weren’t real, and this girl was real. So, she must have been born like that.
The girl was walking around the room looking at everything with big green eyes. She picked up the little mirror Becca used for putting on make-up and looked in it. She laughed and showed the mirror to Becca.
She’s like a baby seeing a mirror for the first time, thought Becca. Oh my life, this kid must be really stupid. The girl picked up more things – a bottle of shampoo, a schoolbook, a hairbrush and for each thing she gave a little coo of excitement.
Becca heard the door close downstairs.
“Mom’s home,” she whispered loudly to the girl. “Just stay here, all right?”
“Rebecca, are you home darling?”
“I’m up here, Mom! Be down in a minute.”
“I’ve got fries. You hungry?”
Becca turned to the girl.
“Just stay here. Stay!” She made staying motions with her hands.
“Lie on the bed. Just keep quiet. Mom would freak out and … well I don’t know what.”
The girl sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Becca.
“I think you’ll be OK,” said Becca and left the room.
She closed the door behind her and went downstairs.
Classroom Activities
Click on the link below to get class discussions, vocab, grammar and comprehension questions plus more background material for use to provoke a lively, fun classroom experience.
And here is a video of the writer talking to young readers about where the idea for the story came from.
Comic Book and Published book
Here is a sample of the comic book version created by Raheela, a fantastic Manga artist and fan from Pakistan. If you want to have the rest just let us know. If you do want real books to give to your class, both this comic book and the published book can be purchased from Sweden’s top publisher, Liber. Follow the link below.
I’m traveling at the mo’
Ok, great. I’ll get the audio to you when I get back to my computer next week.