Arnie’s Aerial Adventure.

You might remember that in July, I posted a story challenge. The winner's story had to include a rocking horse, a cowboy hat, and a zimmer frame.

One of the folk who left me a challenge was Sarah, the daughter of an old friend from uni days. As Sarah was the only child to suggest three words, I promised to write a story including them, whatever 'won' the challenge. Last Tuesday I mailed it to her; a short story including a snowman, a flying elephant, and a kiwi. This is the reply I received from her mum...

'Katherine,
Sarah was really excited to read the story. She was so pleased that you had written one just for her. The story is fab, or in Sarah's words fabulosous ! And Terrific.
Well done getting snowman,kiwi and flying elephant into it.. Exclamations of surprise and awe came from the front room about the snowman and elephant as she read that far..
On reading it to Luke both children thought the description of the little kiwi snowball was cute and wonderful.
Thank you so much for taking the time and effort to do this for Sarah. We will print it out and she will treasure her copy..
She is more than happy for you to share the story.'

So, with Sarah's permission, here's the end result...

 Arnie's Aerial Adventure.  

     

For Sarah – a very special Squidge’s Scribble. x

Arnie took a deep breath before he stepped away from the cover of the tree ferns. He’d done it plenty of times before and nothing had ever happened - but it paid to be careful. He really didn’t fancy running into a stoat. Momma had told him plenty of times that a stoat would eat him as soon as look at him and as kiwis weren’t built for speed or flying…

            The little chick shivered at the thought, but he couldn’t stop now. It was all Grandpoppa’s fault, really. He should never have told Arnie about the other birds – the ones with wings who flapped and flew and glided up there in the daytime when the sky was palest blue and the sun had swapped places with the moon. Arnie had to be right in the centre of the little clearing to be able to gaze up into the night sky.

            “I wish I could fly,” he whispered, staring at the twinkling stars. “It don’t seem fair to be a bird and be stuck on the floor.”

            As Arnie watched, the stars winked out one by one, hidden behind cloud. Then something landed on his beak. Something white, and fluffy, and cold.

            “Snow!”

            Everyone had heard about the magical stuff, but it mostly fell on the mountains. Not here in the rainforest. The single flake was joined by another, then another and another, until the air was filled with downy feathers of white. They stuck to the little kiwi, making him look like a snowball with feet and a beak.
             A movement among the ferns made Arnie’s heart leap. Was it a stoat, come to eat him up? But the figure that approached the clearing was definitely not a stoat; it was tall and two-legged, and made of swirling whiteness. A man – made of snow.

            “The Snowman!” Arnie couldn’t believe his eyes. Grandpoppa had told this story, too – how, once in every lifetime, when snow fell in the rainforest, The Snowman would walk among the tree ferns and grant a wish to one lucky animal or bird.

            Before Arnie could move, a cold white hand swept him into the air.

            “Well, what have we here?” Twin points of ice-blue glowed where the man’s eyes should have been and a slash opened up to speak the words. “A snow-covered kiwi chick? What on earth are you doing out here, little fella?”

            Words failed Arnie only for a second or two. But then he remembered about the wish, and words tumbled from his beak.

            “I’m Arnie, sir. I was looking at the sky and oh! Please, Mr Snowman, sir! Please, can I have the wish?”

            The slash turned upwards into a smile, and The Snowman tilted his head sideways. “My wish?” The laugh, when it came, was like the crackle of frost on leaves. “Tell me, Arnie, what would you wish for? Juicy berries, fat insects or wriggling worms?”

            Arnie shook his head. “I wish I could fly.”

            The blue eyes flared brightly for a second, then faded. “Fly? But you’re a kiwi. Kiwi birds don’t fly – it’s what makes you special.”

            “Just once,” Arnie begged. “Please?”

            “Hmmm...” The Snowman lapsed into silence.

            The longer the silence lasted, the lower Arnie’s beak dropped. When he felt himself being gently lowered back down to the ground, a single tear ran down Arnie’s beak and plopped into the fresh snow; he wasn’t going to get his wish after all. 

            But The Snowman had other ideas. With a complicated twist of his fingers, he caught a swirl of snowflakes, turning them between his fingers until it began to take on a strange shape. A creature, with four thick legs, a rounded body, huge ears and the longest nose Arnie had ever seen, emerged from the snow.

            The Snowman chuckled. “You can’t fly, but you can go piggyback.”

            “Is that a pig?” Arnie gasped.

            “No – it’s an elephant, a flying elephant. Watch.” The Snowman breathed on the white flake-filled shape and it solidified. No bigger than a wombat, it lifted its tube-like nose and flapped its ears…and took off. After a short flight around the Snowman’s head, the elephant landed beside Arnie.

            Once again, The Snowman lifted the chick. This time, Arnie found himself sitting on the elephant’s back.

            “One flight,” The Snowman told them both. “That’s all, so make it a good one.”

            Arnie clung on tight, excited and scared in equal measure as the elephant’s ears flapped and the ground dropped away underneath them. Higher and higher the pair rose, until Arnie could see the whole forest below him.

            “I’m flying!” he squealed.

            For hours the snow-elephant flew over New Zealand, showing Arnie things he’d only ever dreamed of or heard about in stories. He felt the hot breath of volcanoes and was chilled by the spray from river rapids. He saw the turquoise blue of glacial lakes and the yellow of sulphurous springs. He even flew over a kiwi farm, laughing out loud at the thought that there was a fruit named after a bird, because Arnie certainly didn’t think he was named after a fruit!

            Dawn was streaking the sky pink and purple when the flying elephant landed softly beside The Snowman. Arnie slid from the elephant’s back, his eyes wide from all the amazing things he’d seen. 

            The Snowman crouched down. “So, little chick, did you enjoy flying?”

            “Oh yes – thank you so much! I’ve seen more than any other kiwi, ever!”

            “Good – then it is a wish well spent. But now, I must leave. The sun is coming up, and it would not do for me to be seen.” The Snowman clicked his fingers – they made a sound like ice cracking – and the elephant leapt into the air. Before Arnie could blink, the animal exploded into a mass of snowflakes which fell gently to the earth.

            “Goodbye, Arnie,” The Snowman murmured and he disappeared.

            Arnie began to run as fast as he could towards a certain burrow.  

            “Grandpoppa!” he called as he burst inside. “I got the wish!”

            “Eh? Whassat?” Grandpoppa nearly fell off his feet in surprise. “Wotcha doin’ out here at this time of the morning, Arnie?” The old bird peered closely at the excited chick. “You’ve snow on your feathers.”

            “I’ve seen The Snowman! I got his wish and I flew, Grandpoppa! I flew!” Arnie was bouncing round the old bird like a feathered ball.

            Grandpoppa’s eyes twinkled. “You did, did you? Well, best set yourself down and tell me all about it then before we go to bed.”

            “Well,” Arnie began. “It was like this…”