The egg shell lay abandoned on the grass. I wondered if the baby bird had survived. I hoped it was and safe in a nest somewhere. The likelihood was that some animal had snatched the egg and eaten it. I walked away, never knowing the answer.
Everybody was flocking to the beach like they would die if they didn’t. I was a late sheep to the party, so I was stuck with changing tents blocking my view and constant loud noises. Grumpily, I told myself when I finally win the lottery, I’m buying my own private beach.
I embraced the dark, cold theater. Feeling secure despite many people nearby. Tampering down excitement, the pictures came to life, real but yet not real; moving and talking in full colour. Then, I saw the sun rise in all her glory for the first time in a hundred and twenty years.
Were they digging to the center of the earth? I didn’t know but I just wanted to sleep. The sounds of the drilling vibrated everything, so there was no way to block the noise out. I looked up hotels and moved out for the weekend. Peace at last!
Seven doors; six things that would kill me, only one that would free me. I had reached the final part in this biased life or death ‘game show’ which was a reality in my country. I choice the middle one. Grabbing the handle, I opened the door and faced my destiny.
It’s strange to think that my fondest memories as a child was going out each spring and collecting frog spawn. It just seemed so natural and innocent. It probably started my career too! I’m now head frog and toad keeper at the zoo.
The sea roared in my ears, the tide was coming back in. I lent out over the edge of the cliff, camera ready to snap whatever was down there. I took a few photos blindly then the puffins flew up into my face, defending their nests and forcing me away.
There were a few ways you could tell the season was changing; warmer weather and green plant shoots, but for me I knew spring was here when the loud croaking and pop splashing of the frogs in my pond started waking me up each morning.