All this little creature does, it seems, is sleep; well, sleep and eat the shredded paper it’s laying on… mind you, it is a very old dictionary, and that’s enough to put anyone to sleep.
I’m going to have to build a special aviary for it (him/her); I know for a fact this species, especially when fully grown, have very particular needs. Plenty of space to fly around in… a cave or something to hide or sleep in (but looking at the tiny thing now, if this sleep pattern continues I may never see it (him/her) fully grown).
It’s funny how I came across the little critter… it was still half in it’s egg, screeching to be free, but it was in the middle of a field, partially hidden in the parched grass and nowhere near any of the trees that surround the place.
I scooped the bird and shell up, which was very hot to the touch but I persevered with it, I couldn’t leave it where it was.
I brought it back, shredded the dictionary pages, and lay the shell down so the bird could free itself; it seemed to burp a tiny flame after nibbling on a shred of paper, and then went to sleep – the flame telling me this is a fire bird, a phoenix, and they aren’t as mythological as I first thought.
Posted for Six Sentence Stories. This week, Denise has chosen Fire as the prompt word.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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