Birdie's Book: Chapter 4 Excerpt by FGA Media Inc.

Birdie's Book: Chapter 4 Excerpt

BIRDIE’S BOOK

AV E N T U R I N E

in her hair, and their skin ranged from pale white to riverbank brown. The brownest swam closer to the shore. Her purple hair was as long as her body. I shook my head, trying to wake up. My eyes must have looked like a little kid’s eyes on Christmas morning, full of awe and amazement. I had to be dreaming, even though it was beyond me how I could have fallen asleep in the cold. Yet, I knew for sure I was dreaming when I saw I was no longer bundled up in my scarf and Mo’s coat. I was wearing the same jeans, but I had on my favorite soft T-shirt. I would have frozen to death in Mo’s winter garden in this outfit! The woman—or rather, the mermaid—nearest to me blinked her chocolate brown eyes. They changed to violet, matching her mass of hair. She held out her hand, as if I was supposed to touch it or kiss it. I reached out to shake hands. Her skin was cool and wet. When I touched her, I was amazed to watch her hair lighten to glowing green. She let out a kind of watery sigh, then spoke in some trilling, musical language. I wanted to understand her. It sounded like she was saying something important. It was as if I’d stepped into a fairytale book with beautiful watercolor illustrations, and I desperately wanted to be a part of it.

“Excuse me?” I said. “I don’t understand.” I was hoping that since I was dreaming, the words would come out in her trilling music, but they were in English, in my own voice. The other two mermaids swam closer. One had waist-length red hair, green eyes, and skin the color of moonlight. She had a three-part tail that must have made her a fast swimmer. The other had full lips and aquamarine eyes framed with lashes that quivered with sparkling drops of water like diamonds. The first mermaid batted her eyes several times at me, giggling all the while, and then fanned out her black hair in a wide arc in the water, turning it a bright tangerine color. It appeared to be a gesture of welcome. “Where I come from we have legends about them,” came a voice from behind me. I spun around but saw no one. The voice spoke again: “They coax children to ride on their backs and then they dive down deep and drown them.” It was a girl’s strong voice. I took a few steps toward the red rocks and looked around the flowering plants. There was a girl a little taller than me, practicing a dance of some kind with a foot-long orange-colored stick. She stared into my eyes as she waved and whooshed the stick through the air, making it whistle like a swift wind.