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Marta and the Moon | Part Two

FOLKTALE WEEK 2021

PROMPT #2: DREAM


The water rippled into a thousand small staircases. Marta grabbed her hand from the night ocean and inspected it. Droplets had started to drip down her arm and left a glowing remanence on her skin. She watched the droplets amazed as they traveled down her arm and off her elbow onto the sand.

Sand engulfed her feet swallowing them at the edges. And as she stepped away from the black water she felt a deep breath of air hit her shoulders. Frozen in place, she waited. The rhythm of the air was not the wind. Although it did not appear to Marta as if it belonged to a human. For no human would have that type of gusto or control. When she turned, the fabric of Marta's dress moved swiftly and she saw the owner of the breath. It was a bird the height of her house with a wingspan so long it dissipated into the night sky.



Marta dreams of a large bird with a beak of glitter and feathers of gold. Artwork done in walnut ink, black ink, and Etchr gold pearlescent watercolors on Arches 140 lb watercolor paper.


The water rippled into a thousand small staircases. Marta grabbed her hand from the night ocean and inspected it. Droplets had started to drip down her arm and left a glowing remanence on her skin.

“With beaks of glitter and feathers of gold…” said Marta. Her hands dropped to her side as she desperately tried to remember any other details from the stories. Why had she not paid more attention to Grandfather?

As if understanding her thoughts, the large bird’s head cocked to one side and his eyes narrowed. His left wing swung up to attention and then abruptly stopped at her right shoulder. What the bird did next she did not expect. He opened up his beak to the sky and let out a deafening screech to the heavens. The force was too much for Marta’s tiny body and she stumbled back again into the water. Her back hit the water first, but her eyes remained fixated on the bird as her face submerged.

“Wake up child!” said Grandfather, “you were dreaming.” Marta sat up in the bed alert of her surroundings. She ran her hands over her arms and looked for any signs of the glowing streaks of water, but they did not exist. She patted her head to feel her wet hair, but it was dry. Below her, the pillow crinkled and she reached back to find a long feather.

“These birds you talk about,” she said. “I want to know everything.”