A Short Fairy Tale Story for Adults or Children.
This is the story of a beautiful and brave bird who refused to give up hope in his search of finding love and happiness....
The Fire Bird.
How The Fairy Tale Story of The Fire Bird came to be written.
I took a photograph of a couple of ceramic tiles while on holiday in Greece. I thought the brightly coloured birds depicted on the pottery tiles were interesting and wondered what had provided the potter with the idea to make them.
When I saw the photo I had taken, I decided wanted to write a fairy story of how their images came to be on the tile.
This is the fairy story that is about the birds on the ceramic tiles.
The Fire Bird's Story.
Once upon a time there was a bird who had feathers that were so beautiful and intense in colour that at times as it flew from tree to tree; people would become alarmed at the glow of it’s feathers in the distance and they would run to where it had been to put out the fire that they thought they saw there.
So the bird became known as the Fire Bird a title which was very grand for such a small bird. Who never had been able to see what all the fuss was about when people ran about calling his name “Fire, Fire!” over and over again. He was a very happy little bird but sometimes he felt a bit lonely. He decided to leave the place he lived and fly to the next island to find himself another bird to share his days with.
The first island he reached he spent a week on but he soon knew that he did not belong there. All of the birds on the island had drab feathers but that was not why he left . He left because he felt even more alone than before. Especially when all of the dull birds roosted together at night and he was alone in a tree at the edge of the forest. He did try to join them but they did not want to know him and they jeered at his bright feathers and his different sounding calls.
The next island he visited he left in haste minus a tail feather and even that he considered a lucky escape. This island was full of striped prowling cats with fangs so long that they overhung their bottom lip. This was definitely not the place for a brightly coloured Fire bird to live.
The third island he felt must be the one that he would settle on, for he was tired of travelling and just wanted to settle down somewhere he could call home.
It was while he was on this island that he began to feel his luck had at last changed because in the morning he could hear the sweet tones of a bird singing. He knew he had to find her where ever she was. He was sure such a sweet voice could only belong to a female bird and a beautiful one at that. On his third day on the island he found the owner of the beautiful song but to his disappointment she was imprisoned. How could she sing such a sweet song when she was not free he asked himself. He began to visit the garden that she lived in every morning although he lived in fear of being imprisoned himself.
He watched as the man placed seed and water in the cage each day for her and he heard him whistle tunes for her as he went about his work as a potter. Each morning the man would make his tiles from the clay from the river, each evening he would light a fire and place the tiles and the pots he had made into the flames to cook. The bird knew that his lady was in no danger from the potter for he spent hours decorating pots and tiles with pictures of her.
The potter knew the Fire Bird was there watching him but he never tried to capture him or chase him away. Some days when he emptied the bird’s seed bowl he would tip the uneaten seed mixed in with the husks she had discarded onto the ground for the Fire bird to eat. The seed tasted wonderful to the Fire bird because it had been close to the love of his life .
One night the fire bird paced back and forth in his tree unable to sleep and beside himself with grief that his love would spend all her days locked away from him in a cage. Suddenly he noticed the flames from the kiln were licking at the branches that formed the roof of the potter’s hut. The old man was asleep inside exhausted after a hard days work hauling clay from the river. The Fire Bird could see his lady was safe and guessed that this turn of events might make the chance of her being set free more likely. Yet he could not sit in the tree and watch the old man’s home burn to the ground with him in it. He may have imprisoned Scarlet for that was his name for his lady; for most of her life but it had been through ignorance not malice. The fire bird made his decision and flew into the air screaming and flapping he swooped as near to the house as he dare, he even singed the tips of his tail feathers swooping down near the roof of the hut calling “wake up you old fool you’ll be burned in your bed”.
The old man finally wondered what all the commotion outside the hut was and left it to find that he was just in time to save his life but salvaged nothing else.
The next morning the old potter sat on the ground beneath the tree where Scarlet lived in her cage. He sipped his morning tea from a bowl provided by his neighbour. He looked across at the Fire Bird who now had some of his feathers blackened from last nights ordeal. With a sigh the potter put down his bowl of tea he looked across at the Fire Bird and shook his head Then he reached up into the tree and unfastened the latch as if he were going to feed Scarlet instead he set the cage onto the ground and said “Well what are you waiting for you silly bird I’ve no seed to feed you with today. Go with him he will take care of you.” and as he said this he clapped his hands and Scarlet climbed delicately out of the cage stretched out her wings and then took flight to freedom with the Fire Bird proudly at her side.