MAG 111

Tess Kincaid has a wonderful writing challenge.  There are no limits or named styles for  you to follow.  Just create the words from your take on the picture she supplies each week.  The magic of Mr Linky (and I'm not talking dirty!) allows you to connect your published interpretation of the weekly photo and visit all who joined the party.

This week's prompt by Tess had me bumfuzzled for a while but I came up with something...I always do.  I thoroughly enjoy these challenges, it stretches my imagination and causes ideas to surface that I never would have guessed were in me.

The Eagle Landed.

Tracking the eagle hadn't been easy especially in his city clothes but he had an idea where she was going with her bundle and he followed.  Tripping over briers, falling, and crying out with the frustration and the fear of failing, he continued, determined.

Climbing the bluff, he had to rest often, not accustomed to this type of exertion.  His heart, his fear kept him going.  This had to be a success, there was no choice.

Spotting the nest, the eagle was no where in sight.  Was this a good sign or a bad omen?

Racing, stumbling across the plateau, he approached the nest.  The habit of taking off his shoes as he entered his home was done without any thought. 

What lay before him was not within his scope of imagination.  He had read horror stories of giant eagles swooping up pets and children.  He had never believed until today.  

They had been in their own yard in suburbia with nothing to fear except where the newspaper boy threw the daily newspaper.  He and his daughter were laying on the manicured lawn, untouched by the natural world.  They had just finished a giggly game of "This little piggie..." and he had walked five steps to retrieve his iced tea from the lawn table.

The large female eagle had swooped down and in mere seconds had clasped the tiny human bundle in her enormous claws and just as swiftly climbed the air with her wings.  Up and toward the mountains, her flapping wings had carried his heart, his soul, his child with her.

As he crouched in the nest with no thought of danger, he observed his daughter laying with the eagle fledglings. There was blood, but wait, she was moving.  The small eaglets seem to be mesmerized by the food gift their mom had dropped into the nest as she returned to the hunt.

The child, just slightly scratched where the giant eagle had clutched her, was quietly playing with the fledglings' toes.  He thanked all the gods that ever were hearing his daughter giggle as she said, "And this little piggy stayed home".