A flying plastic bag
A transparent, plastic bag sat on the sidewalk right beside the wall of a small, local store. Wind sometimes made it circle around the spot lazily and nobody cared. People walked by, zombified by their phones, or looking grumpily at the sidewalk as they made their way to their destination, or simply walked casually, licking an ice cream cone from the ice cream place on the corner. All these people walked right past the plastic bag and nobody bothered themselves to pick it up and put it in the garbage can which sat a few feet away.
Minutes later, the wind picked up and the bag floated a couple of feet from the concrete. It danced in the air for a while and came back down like a loose feather from a bird. Still, nobody paid attention to it and it sat forgotten on the sidewalk.
But then a girl came by along with her mother, and she spotted the bag after it lifted itself in the air for a second time. She decided to put in practice something her mother told her long ago: “If you see trash lying around the house, put it where it belongs.” The girl wasn’t at her house, but she decided to be good and throw the bag away.
She wanted to snatch the plastic bag from the air, but the bag flew out of her reach. The girl stared at it as the wind blew it higher and higher, until it was flying way above the rooftops and lamp posts. The bag began to glide down again and it made toward the other side of the street. The girl simply watched it as her mother fumbled through her purse, searching for the grocery list she had completed that morning.
“Mom, look! It’s flying!” she said, pointing at the bag.
Her mother glanced at it, smiled, and went back to her purse.
The plastic bag made a few tight circles in the air and it finally landed on the sidewalk across the street. The girl was itching to cross to get it, but she knew her mother wouldn’t let her. Instead, she stood there, wishing that the man that was walking on the other side would see the bag and throw it away.
He didn’t. The man simply walked past it and never even noticed it. The girl was about to ask her mother if they could cross the street when the wind picked up again and the bag began its flight. The girl gazed at it as it spun and twirled in the air and it made its way toward her. The bag glided and it landed neatly a few feet away, right into the garbage can.
So. . .that was a small story of a plastic bag. I came up with it after seeing a flying bag the other day. It’s weird how you can make a story out of ANYTHING, isn’t it? Just look around you and write about the cat that is always sleeping on that porch, or about the old lady that walks around the block every morning, or the evil-looking garden gnome that might wander around the neighborhood at night, looking for potatoes and carrots for its supper. It’s relaxing to write about anything. You put in practice your “stuff” and the result is a small piece of gold that is yours and yours only. When you write small stories like these every once in a while, later on you’ll have a big collection of them and I bet they will make a good read, whether you read them for yourself or you decide to share them with others.
So I suggest you try it out if you don’t write small and random stories like these already. Like I said earlier, you put in practice your writing, plus, you get to appreciate the beauty of the things that many times go unnoticed. There are loads of small things in the world to write about, and I think that if writing is something that you do regularly, then it’s your job to write about them to show the world how lucky we are to be living in such a detailed and wonderful place.