Folding Paper Cranes
a warm waterproof hip-length jacket usually with a hood, originally worn in polar regions, but now worn for any outdoor activity
(informal, derogatory) a socially inept person with a hobby considered by most people to be boring
Each morning, the master wakes us before dawn. We are given a bowl of cold gruel to eat before being herded into the Great Hall. That is when our work begins.
All day long we sit folding paper cranes. Our fingers move with the precision and control of a surgeon. We bend and crease the paper, giving it shape and form.
Most of us have been here as long as we can remember. It is tradition to send your first child to study at the Temple, though not all have the gift. Those who do not will be sent away in shame.
As we work, the Master examines our creations. When he disapproves of the work he delivers a quick slap to the hands with his cane. His disappointment is worse than the pain.
Today, he stands behind me and watches as I put the finishing touches on my crane. I hold it up and, to my relief, the wings begin to flap and it flies away.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (4 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
I love the ending. I gasped in wonder. Hooray!
- #1208 Posted 6 years ago
- 5 out of 5
Thanks so much! It's always nice to meet another True Believer :)
- #1209 Posted 6 years ago
Great setting. I love that they fly when perfected. Magical.
- #1214 Posted 6 years ago
I love this story. The ending is beautiful. I can just see them sitting day after day folding these cranes, just hoping that someday they will get it right. I can feel the tension release in the narrator when it takes flight. And I can only imagine the crushing disappointment if it didn't.
- #4222 Posted 3 years ago
- Published 6 years ago and featured 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 12 times and rated 1 times.
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