Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: The Writer's Life (05/13/10)
By Theresa Santy
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You will become a writer.
“But I don’t know how to write,” said Flitter, as she tried to rub her head with one of her front legs.
Suddenly, Flitter craved food and she devoured every fruit and plant she could reach. She grew larger and larger, and then—out of compulsion—she attached herself to a sturdy branch. While she hung upside down from the limb, her body secreted a liquid which covered her and hardened, swathing her in isolation. Swiftly, and without notice, her original form melted away and she reformed into something new. Flitter clawed her way out of the encasing—and flew.
“I have wings,” said Flitter, dripping with tears of joy. She relished her newly-formed self, and she soared, dove, and circled until her wings were bent from exhaustion. “Lord, what a gift you have given me. These wings are exceptionally impressive!”
Then, another note attached to a pebble thwacked Flitter on the head:
Your assignment is to write the daily greeting in the morning sky in the land of Blooming Orchids.
Flitter could barely contain her joy. All her struggling was behind her—or so she thought—and she now had gorgeous wings, which even if left alone would allow her to contribute more beauty to the world than all her years of digging combined. She embraced her gift from God, and she was ready to share it with everyone.
She woke up while it was still dark and flew to the morning sky. Instinctively she knew that with as little effort as a thought, she could spray inked butterfly dust, shaping the stream with varying patterns of flight. With bursting avidity she sprayed the following greeting, using all the colors of the rainbow:
“HAVE A NICE DAY!”
Flitter’s friends and relatives and many of the critters living in the land of Blooming Orchids congratulated Flitter and thanked her for the lovely greeting. Flitter was proud and tried to fly as high as her ego, but she could not.
Before the next sunrise flitter was in the sky, eager to share her glorious gift. She wrote:
“GOOD MORNING—IT’S ME, FLITTER!”
Then, she darted through the land of Blooming Orchids, impatient to receive public recognition for her morning greeting, but there wasn’t any to be found. A third pebble thwacked Flitter on the head:
For whose glory, is your gift?
Flitter’s shoulders sank, or at least the little sections of her thorax which would have been shoulders if God had given them to her—sank.
She prayed unceasingly until the following day. In the morning sky she wrote:
“Good morning, beloved creations of God. Treasure the beauty of today, and behold the glory of our Lord.”
Then, Flitter went about her business, for there was much digging to be done. Her old job of digger had not been reassigned, and had not gone away, even though Flitter was gifted with the new assignment of writer. But Flitter did not complain. She worked tirelessly to finish her digging, leaving plenty of time to pray thoughtfully, deeply, and sincerely before each morning greeting.
On some days, Flitter received compliments and praise for her morning greeting. Whenever this happened, she immediately attributed the glory to God. Many days, Flitter received no comments of any kind. Occasionally, Flitter stumbled upon confusion, self-doubt, and exasperation.
Flitter embraced the glory of her Lord, and with each passing sunrise, Flitter’s writings grew in beauty and significance, though her wings became faded, and worn.
Flitter lived to the age of one hundred and three in butterfly years, which is equivalent to one year in a human life. It is now several generations beyond her passing, and Flitter’s morning greetings have come to be known and respected beyond the land of Blooming Orchids and have been remembered and quoted as far as the land of Thistles and Brush.
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