Bridging the Gap
Little Sparrow
Birds sang sweet songs in the warmth of the morning. A nest of sparrows hopped from branch to branch in the tall birch. Its black eyes searching the curious scene below. The feathers ruffled in a slight breeze and the bird sprung from the branch, gliding to the ground to inspect the broken pieces of China scattered on the asphalt, next to a cracked red helmet and a busted duffle with broken strap.
The little sparrow pecked at the China and marveled at its reflection in the helmet’s visor. A moth fluttered by, taking the bird’s attention. It hopped after the bug, but was soon consumed by another movement in the leaves beside the road and under the trees.
Their clothes and skin were wet with sweat. Dirt clung to blots of blood spotting their brows, chins, and hands. Her legs were bent at an odd angle, so he tugged them to their rightful place and pulled him self to a sitting position. His back was sore from the impact, and his ears were still ringing.
“Michelle, are you okay?”
“Don’t yell, Jess.” she mumbled.
Jesse Tuck wiped away the dried blood from her face with the hem of his shirt. The heat of summer had risen high before the sun had completely risen itself, and now the mug was nearly unbearable. Michelle opened her eyes and brought her hands to her head, checking she had healed. Jesse helped her up and they sat back against the tree trunk, their gaze falling on the doe sprawled out on the other side of the road.
“The plate’s broken.” she stated. She crawled to a squatting position and held herself on her hands and knees, looking over the mess. Jesse stood and picked up the helmet, looking over the crack from the visor to the base.
“Sometimes, there’s a beauty in this.”
Michelle stood up beside him and he tossed the helmet back to the ground. The air was sweet and bright and lingered on skin and twined in hair. The little sparrow fluttered up to the treetops as the helmet bounced toward it. Jesse put an arm around her shoulder, and Michelle leaned into him. There was a Tuck and a Foster, both with nearly identical life patterns. Both able to stay together for as long as possible. Winnie Foster and Jesse Tuck had loved each other, despite the age difference, and despite the man in the yellow suit.
One hundred years had passed, and yet together here were two people stuck like rocks in the bend of a river. Two people who were each dearly special to the other. Two people who were links to different worlds, and who had both thought the universe of Winnie Foster.
The little sparrow pecked at the China and marveled at its reflection in the helmet’s visor. A moth fluttered by, taking the bird’s attention. It hopped after the bug, but was soon consumed by another movement in the leaves beside the road and under the trees.
Their clothes and skin were wet with sweat. Dirt clung to blots of blood spotting their brows, chins, and hands. Her legs were bent at an odd angle, so he tugged them to their rightful place and pulled him self to a sitting position. His back was sore from the impact, and his ears were still ringing.
“Michelle, are you okay?”
“Don’t yell, Jess.” she mumbled.
Jesse Tuck wiped away the dried blood from her face with the hem of his shirt. The heat of summer had risen high before the sun had completely risen itself, and now the mug was nearly unbearable. Michelle opened her eyes and brought her hands to her head, checking she had healed. Jesse helped her up and they sat back against the tree trunk, their gaze falling on the doe sprawled out on the other side of the road.
“The plate’s broken.” she stated. She crawled to a squatting position and held herself on her hands and knees, looking over the mess. Jesse stood and picked up the helmet, looking over the crack from the visor to the base.
“Sometimes, there’s a beauty in this.”
Michelle stood up beside him and he tossed the helmet back to the ground. The air was sweet and bright and lingered on skin and twined in hair. The little sparrow fluttered up to the treetops as the helmet bounced toward it. Jesse put an arm around her shoulder, and Michelle leaned into him. There was a Tuck and a Foster, both with nearly identical life patterns. Both able to stay together for as long as possible. Winnie Foster and Jesse Tuck had loved each other, despite the age difference, and despite the man in the yellow suit.
One hundred years had passed, and yet together here were two people stuck like rocks in the bend of a river. Two people who were each dearly special to the other. Two people who were links to different worlds, and who had both thought the universe of Winnie Foster.
♠ ♠ ♠
I want to thank all of you who have subscribed and commented, and even just read this story. This is the end of Bridging the Gap. As this is the first story I've ever written and finished, I am very proud of it. I had never meant for this to be very long, or very dramatic. I wanted it to be rather light-hearted, just as the original book is. So thank you all once again.-Carolynn