I slid downhill face-first through slimy wet leaves, soil, and bark, being bruised and scraped by sharp rocks that happened to be in my path. I flailed my arms madly to try to stop my impending crash, but it was to no avail. On either side of me I could see green and gold blurs of shrubbery and trees illuminated by sunlight.
“AUGH!” I yelped. The hill was too steep for me to stop sliding, and the forest floor too slippery from last night’s rain. I could only stay moving, mud sliding into my shoes and staining my face. I would have grabbed onto a nearby tree, but my mind was currently occupied with predicting how painful it would be when I finally hit the tree trunk I was barreling towards, plus, I had no reflexes whatsoever so I could never catch a tree in time. I was slapped by a particularly prickly bush, and I could see the thick, gnarled tree that was destined to heavily injure my face. I desperately dug my fingernails into the cool dirt below me, trying to make myself veer to the left. I shut my eyes, and to my relief, I felt my right ear skim the bark of the tree I was just headed towards. I had avoided it by the skin of my teeth. As the hill flattened out, I slowly came to a halt, dirt gathering in front of me in a pile.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the large, soggy pink worm, slithering over my hand. I shook it off, then I stood up, brushing twigs out of my hair and yellowed pine needles off my clothes. The smell of pine trees and moist soil hung in the air.
I heard squelches of mud, followed by a familiar voice, shaking with laughter. “I’m dead!” My friend Phoebe snickered as she climbed down the hill gracefully, not stumbling once. “Thea! I wish I had a camera so I could’ve taken a picture of that! When you tripped, your face looked like—” She didn’t finish that thought because she broke into more laughter.
“Thanks,” I muttered, smacking a mosquito that had landed on my arm and wiping the insect’s remnants on the front of my shirt. It didn’t matter because my shirt was already smeared brown with mud. I made a halfhearted effort to try to rub the grime off, which didn’t work.
“What did you need my help with again?” She asked, still grinning. I had gotten her to walk through the woods to help me with a matter of great importance, despite the fact that people might question the importance of the task. On the way, I had stepped on the wrong patch of ground and found myself taking an unpleasant tumble.
This is the part she’s not gonna like… I think while saying, “Well… you know that collection I have?”
Phoebe’s grin contorted into a scowl immediately. “Thea, this isn’t what I think it is…”
“It is,” I assure.
“I should have known,” she grumbles. “It’s always about your obsession with shiny things.”
So, here is something about me: I love shiny things—or as Phoebe puts it, it’s an “unhealthy obsession.” It’s not my fault I like sparkly objects. I just do. I don’t care if it’s a penny or a diamond—I will have it either way. I would take the sun, moon, and stars for my magnificent collection if I could.
“Come on,” I pleaded. “Just help me.”
“Do you recall that time I helped you with getting that glittery button from that storm drain?”
“It was an earring,” I corrected.
“No matter what it was, I ended up with my glasses broken in half. You don’t even have your ears pierced!”
I change the subject by ignoring her and walking further through the forest, towards my goal. Phoebe followed me. Warm emerald light flitted across the ground, and between the tree branches above I could see snippets of cloudless azure sky. Bird chirps rang from the treetops, and butterflies fluttered lazily around the dew-coated wildflowers and ferns that grew in bunches. Small rodents and lizards scampered through the growth. It would have been a beautiful day, but unfortunately, we were trudging through a swamp of temperatures as high as ninety degrees Fahrenheit that completely ruined the effect. You would think that rain would cool everything down, but after the summer shower during the night, everything became sticky and sweltering. Just the act of breathing felt like inhaling a nearly solid mass of humidity. We passed over an arch of foliage, and arrived at our destination at last.
It was an ancient oak tree, with gnarled gray bark riddled with lichen and moss. A length of dark green ivy wound around the tree’s trunk like a string of Christmas lights. The tree’s crooked branches hung heavy with bunches of leaves, and dipped low to the ground at the ends, forming a sort of domed roof. Pale mushrooms stuck out, forming tiny step-like structures on the trunk that reminded me of a fairy house’s staircase. The tree was only about twice my height, at the most, and I could see a messy cluster of twigs shoved in between where the branches grew from. It was a nest. A nest for a very specific type of bird that had a very similar hobby as me.
Phoebe caught onto what I was planning quickly. “Isn’t it a myth that crows like shiny things?” She asked skeptically.
I shrug. “Eh… For this crow, it seems all too true… When I walk in this part of the woods, I always see it with something glimmering in its beak.”
“Okay, so you want to raid this nest for sparkly stuff… Why do you need me?”
“Well, I can’t reach,” I admitted. “You just need to be my stepping stool.”
Phoebe snorts with laughter. “It must be tough being so short,” she jokes. I was outraged. I’m not that short. The jagged sticks of the nest jutted out, creating an outcropping impossible to reach over, and the height of the tree made it worse.
“Excuse me?” I snap, insulted. “We’re the same height! Actually, I’m probably taller than you! I’d like to see you reach that nest by yourself!”
Phoebe is already taunting me by singing “Shorty, shorty,” while skipping in a circle.
I stomp on her foot, which I’m proud of, because I didn’t miss (as usual when she is making fun of me). She yelps and immediately ceases her mockery.
“Alright, alright,” she says. “I’m just kidding. I’ll help.”
“You’d better…”
We get to work. It takes what seems like eons, but we do it. Phoebe is not thrilled about being a stepping stool. I use Phoebe’s interlocked hands as a stair, standing on them and holding onto the tree for support. I fall off multiple times, because I don’t exactly have great balance (as demonstrated by my earlier stumble down that hill), and I suffer through many of Phoebe’s complaints such as: “Your shoes are disgusting!” and “Ouch! Get your crusty shoes off my face! You’re going to break my glasses again!” and some more remarks about the cleanliness of my shoes and the condition of her glasses. At last, I was able to hoist myself high enough so that I could peer over the nest’s spiky brim.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized the crow wasn’t present. I didn’t want to spend time shooing it away, and it would most likely peck me to death before I could get it to leave. I then gazed in awe at the bounty that lay before me. It glowed, and it probably could have been a good substitute for a lighthouse. There were a variety of coins that made up most of the items in the nest. In the sea of copper and silver tinted circles rested a few miscellaneous objects. There was a shard of a mirror, a bedazzled hairclip, a reflective marble, and a few other things. Then, there was the jewelry. Among the other shimmering items was a bracelet, an earring, and best of all, a teardrop-shaped opal pendant hanging from a silver chain. Oh yeah—there were about half a dozen dead bugs too, with spindly bent legs and bulging eyes.
“Hurry up, Thea,” Phoebe said, irritated. “I’m going to drop you, and you will be landing on that rock over there.”
That comment made me aware of the glaringly obvious issue in my plan. I didn’t have anything to carry the shiny things in…
“Uh…” I mumbled, not wanting to admit that I’d forgotten the most important item in this expedition.
“What?”
I decided to avoid having Phoebe make fun of my mistake and to just take the best items and put them in my pockets. I took the opal necklace, feeling its smooth, cold surface and admiring its multicolored sheen. Just as I grabbed the necklace, I heard a noise. It was faint at first, but then very, very, loud. It blasted in my ear, nearly deafening me. It was screechy, and raspy, and it echoed throughout the forest, making me fall off my human stepping stool in alarm.
As Phoebe had threatened before, I landed on a rock, knocking all the oxygen out of my lungs. “Ouch…”
It turned out that when I fell, I kicked Phoebe in the face and let’s just say… her glasses didn’t exactly take it too well…
When I recovered from my painful stumble, I saw my friend throw me a furious look. “Thea… What did I tell you about breaking my glasses?” Her voice was loaded with hatred, and I swore that I saw ice and flames dancing in her eyes. Her glasses were back on her face, but one of the lenses had popped out and was now shattered on the ground in tiny pieces that resembled glitter.
I hesitated before answering her question, “Don’t do it?”
“That was a rhetorical question.”
I was saved from her wrath by another burst of the same sound that made me topple. The haunting one that sounded like the grind of rusty metal. The call was familiar, and my suspicions were confirmed when I saw it. Its wings were outstretched menacingly as it perched in its nest. Its oily onyx feathers gleamed, and its inky eyes stared at me with more loathing than Phoebe had. Its beak was reminiscent of a razor, ready to stab those who dared rob its nest into something that looked a bit like a chunk of unappetizing Swiss cheese.
The crow’s obsidian eyes fell on the necklace, which I realized was still clutched in my hands. Then, like an arrow, the evil bird swooped down, landed on my shoulder, and hit my head with a barrage of nonstop pecks, cawing while it did so.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” I sputtered as I tried to wave the crow off, but instead plummeted backwards. I tried to get up, but the crow kept on poking my forehead with its needle-like beak. I skidded around on the damp ground. There was now a stinging spot in between my eyebrows. What made it worse was that I could hear Phoebe unsuccessfully try to hold back laughter. I guess I must have looked really pathetic, struggling against this awful avian. I probably was indistinguishable from a slug, all covered in slime and dirt.
Phoebe finally attempted to give me some advice, “Just give up that necklace, Thea. Stop being so stubborn.”
“No!” I spat, the crow now trying to snatch the piece of jewelry from my fist. Fortunately, since it had stopped prodding at my head, I had the chance to stand up. I got on my feet and broke out into a sprint. For a second, it was like I was actually getting away, despite being a ridiculously slow runner. That is, until I felt a tug on the necklace in my hand.
I turned to see the crow, black claws wrapped around the accessory’s silver chain. I pulled back, and soon, we were engaged in a tense game of tug-of-war. Crow and girl locked eyes with each other, each one determined to win the necklace. It felt like there was a spotlight on our conflict, blurring the rest of the world out. Then I felt myself winning, and the dreadful bird’s grip loosening. I pulled the necklace with all my might, and when the crow let go, I didn’t see it coming when my own force caused me to fall into the mud, the necklace slipping from my hands and into the air. I watched as the necklace soared like a comet with a silvery tail, until the crow dived in and caught it with one smooth motion.
I sat up, combing my fingers through my mud-caked hair and watching the crow return to its nest, a look of triumph flickering in its eyes. It gave me one final raspy warning call, as if to dare me to steal from it again, before dissolving into the shadows of its nest, along with the opal necklace, which glinted one more time, taunting me.
“I think you underestimated that bird,” Phoebe put in, beaming at my humiliation, seeming to have forgotten the problem with her glasses.
“Yep…” I sigh. Then I forced a smile, because I really didn’t want to feel as depressed as I did at the moment for the rest of the day.
Now I was completely covered in soil, if I wasn’t before. I could have camouflaged flawlessly with the sloppy ground. I felt sticky and slimy, and the hot day didn’t make it better. Grim was smudged under my fingernails, and my hair was hanging with brambles and sticks. My face was probably unrecognizable behind all the half-decomposed greenery layered on it. It would take a miracle to scrub the grass stains and streaks of muck out of my clothes. We walked back through the forest to where we came from, sunlight cascading through the trees, dappling the ground with bright spots, but also burning us with fiery heat. I annihilated all the mosquitos that buzzed in a swarm near me, but more just came in to take their place. Every step I took made a sickening squelching sound, and I could feel my moist socks attach to the inside of my shoes. I didn’t even care about my shiny object collection anymore. I just wanted to go inside, where I could relax in the pristine flow of the air conditioning while eating ice cream.
