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The Girl of a Pink Feather
Sandy Gathered Her Hair in a Shiny Barrette
Sandy moseyed onto a lake at the top of a nearby hill in bewilderment, thinking how to inspire her somber dad. Engulfed with gloom for some reason, he'd con comic books and refuse to eat lately. He was losing weight rather too quickly, and she needed to devise a way to stop his drastic losses.
She sat on the edge of the lake with knees trembling and crossed with dirty hands folded on the sultry, grassy ground gawked, as her elegant, red, feathered dress dusted the wet floor. Sandy's almond-shaped green eyes marveled at two majestic ducks that floated with ease in the tarn. A faint breeze scattered her silky, shiny hair that was by chance dyed to a rosy pinkish hue swayed wildly with the wind.
Sandy turned over and gathered her eye-catching soft hair in a shiny, silver barrette to look rather put together through rivers of tears poured down her flushed cheeks. Suddenly, she stood with her bare feet grubbed in the damp soil to see if an innocent passerby was admiring the charming pair of pasty ducks nearby. She flapped her hands kindly to signal someone from a distance to notice her soft smile.
Why Sandy's Hair Was Hot Pink?
She shrieked and asked the gentle boy who was walking by." Are you familiar with what ducks like to eat?”
“Well, I'm not certain, however, I believe they love fish, eggs, and grass,” the fine-looking boy cried with bewilderment as he starred at her hair.
She stroked her flushed cheeks and hair callously, and crinkled her eyes from the limelight of the blistering sunlight and shade. “Thank you!”
“Why is your hair pink, lass?” he inquisitively asked while he scurried to pore over her.
"A pitcher of strawberry punch spilled from the top of my refrigerator and doused my crown yesterday. And my blonde tresses amazingly turned into this modish, rosy shade.”
Sandy Sure Knew How to Please Her Dad
The boy patted his mug and heaved a piercing sigh agree with Sandy, though he thought she was extremely brave not to wash it out right away.
Sandy claimed, “It’s kind of à la mode, and besides my pinkish locks cheered my dad so much; his appetite came back with a vengeance. Now, he breaks into a belly laugh every time he sees me and wolfs loads of cream puffs and pies on the fly! He merely eats strawberry preserves that are the same color as my hair. Imagine that! And he desires my mane to remain pink forever!”
“I sure hope the silly ducks admire you and aren't afraid of your blinding brightness,” the boy said jokingly.
She whirled to face the dazzling ducks in the water and tore a handful of rich grass for them to nosh.
“Come on lovable ducks; let me hear you, quack! I have a fine treat for you!” she cried as she tittered like crazy and dried her cold tears. She forgot about her ailing dad for a moment. The boy accompanied Sandy around the lake and cajoled with her for hours. They laughed and laughed and had a fantastic time. Then she thought of taking home a little duck for her dad to roast for dinner.
"Perhaps, I can craft a pink grapefruit sauce for Papa and dazzle this tasty duck with it. And my dad will bring his strength up in no time. What do you sense?" She held as she smiled and extended her fingers through her chic rose hair.
The boy thought for a moment, and said, “Tomorrow I’ll be fishing here in the afternoon. Would you, care to join me?”
“Yes, I most certainly will and I’ll see if my dad would love to tag along as well.”
The Girl of a Pink Feather Poll
Would you set aside your pressing needs to help your dad first?
More Stories for You!
- Sweet Little Story Teller
Alba and her uncle were strolling in a city park when they saw a bunch of birds migrating south. She told a sweet, little lie to impress him, and he gently showed her a thing or two about lying. - Little Boy Bear Glints
Little Boy Bear was dancing and singing in a school play. He was fearful and overcame his dread. Yet, would he wear his Mama's enchanting costume to the play? - Little Prince and Pacu Guffaw over Lambs for a Dame
Little Prince's mom preoccupied with a memory would not speak! One day she remarried her husband over a guffaw and snapped out of an awful fog.
© 2012 Sheila Craan