Quincy the Quail Quests for Quiet E-Book

Kelly Johnson

• Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 78

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Quincy the Quail lives in a lively, noisy meadow filled with the cheerful chaos of his playful siblings and bustling wildlife. Despite his love for his family, Quincy longs for a moment of peace and quieta place where he can rest and hear his own thoughts. Driven by this yearning, he embarks on a heartfelt quest to find a serene spot away from the constant noise. Along the way, he learns that quiet isnt simply the absence of sound, but the gentle calm between the busy noises of life. His journey becomes a gentle adventure of discovery, hope, and the search for a special place of stillness in a vibrant world.

Leseprobe

Title: Quincy the Quail Quests for Quiet

Author: Kelly Johnson

Chapter 1: The Noisy Nest

The sun had only just begun to peek its rosy fingers over the horizon, painting the sky with soft shades of pink and gold, yet the meadow was already buzzing with life. The cool morning air was filled with an orchestra of sounds—chirps, tweets, squawks, and fluttering wings created a lively, never-ending chorus that seemed to bounce from one wildflower to the next. The field, still glistening with dew, sparkled like a sea of tiny jewels under the waking sunlight. Morning had arrived, and with it came the familiar, joyful chaos that marked the start of a brand-new day.

For Quincy the Quail, this symphony of noise meant one very clear thing: the day was beginning, and the field was wide awake. His little heart thumped quietly beneath his soft feathers as he blinked open his eyes, still nestled beneath a cozy patch of grass and wildflowers that smelled sweet and fresh in the cool dawn. Around him, the world was already alive with energy.

His siblings were everywhere—hopping from twig to twig, darting through patches of clover, and playing their usual rowdy morning games. Pip, the fastest and most daring among them, called out loudly with a grin stretching across his face, “Let’s race to the raspberry bush!” His feathers puffed out proudly, a challenge clear in his bright eyes.

“No way! Let’s play tag!” shouted Beanie, already fluttering her wings in excitement, the sound of her laughter ringing like tiny bells. She swooped toward Pip, sending a flurry of feathers swirling in the early light.

All around Quincy, the morning erupted into movement and sound—swooshes of wings, swishes through the tall grass, the rustle of leaves, and the sharp crack of twigs breaking under hurried little feet. Tiny giggles and peeping calls bounced through the meadow, echoing off the trees and filling the air with a lively spirit that seemed impossible to escape.

Quincy sighed softly and tucked his head beneath his wing, trying to shut out the noise. He loved his family dearly—truly he did—but sometimes, especially in these early, bustling moments, their cheerful chaos felt overwhelming. He longed for just a moment of calm, a place where the chatter and clatter faded away like a gentle breeze.

“Too early,” he muttered under his breath, trying to flatten the feathers on his head in a vain attempt to become invisible. “Too noisy. Too… everything.”

The field around him seemed to pulse with energy, and as much as he wished for quiet, it was impossible to escape the sounds of laughter and playful shouts. But deep inside, Quincy felt a little flicker of hope—a wish that maybe, somewhere out there beyond the noise, there was a place of stillness just waiting to be found.

Just then, Junie, the tiniest quail chick, skidded across a patch of dew-soaked grass and bumped right into Quincy’s side.

“Tag, you’re it!” she squeaked, and with that, all six of his younger siblings pounced on him in a flurry of fuzzy feathers and joyful squeals.

Quincy sighed and sat up slowly. “Can’t we play something quiet? Like... nap?”

But his suggestion was already drowned out by the sound of his siblings stampeding toward a curious patch of mushrooms.

From the nearby thicket came the chatter of squirrels arguing over acorns. A woodpecker began rhythmically hammering a tree trunk somewhere close by. In the distance, frogs croaked, bees buzzed, and the breeze whistled through the tall reeds like an invisible flute.

Quincy’s feathers drooped. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to think. Nowhere to just... be still.

He padded softly away from the noisy nest, careful not to disturb the wild commotion that seemed to swirl endlessly around his siblings. His small feet pressed gently against the earth, stepping over twigs and soft patches of moss until he reached a low, moss-covered rock just at the edge of the meadow. Settling himself there, Quincy fluffed his feathers and looked up at the sky, where lazy clouds drifted slowly across the soft blue canvas of morning. The world above moved with such calm, so different from the bustle below.

“I just want a moment of quiet,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely louder than a breath. The words felt fragile as they slipped out into the gentle morning air, like a secret hope shared only with the sky.

But no sooner had he spoken than a sudden, unexpected sneeze burst from behind him—Beanie, as usual, unable to hold back a loud and rather dramatic achoo!—followed immediately by a burst of laughter from Pip and the others tumbling nearby. The peaceful moment shattered like glass, and Quincy blinked in surprise, feeling the familiar rush of noise wash over him once again.

Yet, in that moment of chaos, an idea flickered in Quincy’s mind—a tiny spark of possibility that seemed to glow brighter than the morning sun.

What if… what if I found a place where it really was quiet?

A place where the world wasn’t filled with endless chirps and squawks and crashes of laughter. A special spot where the only sounds were soft and gentle, where a hush hung in the air like a comforting blanket. A silence all his own—no noise to jostle his thoughts or ruffle his feathers.

His eyes brightened, shining with newfound determination as he gazed around the busy meadow. The birds chirped busily in the branches, bees buzzed tirelessly over blooming flowers, and his siblings tumbled and played like a whirlwind of feathers and joy. But somewhere beyond all this lively chaos, he knew, there had to be a peaceful patch waiting for him—a quiet corner where he could rest, listen, and simply be.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, the word carrying a promise, a plan, a secret adventure, “I’m going on a quest. A quest for quiet.”

At that very moment, the wind playfully tossed a crisp yellow leaf right onto his beak, making him blink in surprise. And just as if the universe wanted to test his resolve, Beanie somersaulted accidentally into his tail feathers, tumbling with a giggle and a flurry of flapping wings.

But Quincy didn’t flinch. He didn’t even fluster.

Because deep inside, his heart was fluttering with excitement and hope.

Somewhere out there, beyond the noise, the chatter, and the endless morning racket, a quiet moment was waiting just for him.

And he was going to find it.

Chapter 2: A Whisper of a Wish

The day had been long and noisy—so noisy, in fact, that even the usually gentle dragonflies seemed to buzz louder than usual, their wings humming like tiny engines caught in a race. Quincy’s feathers, which had been bright and full in the morning, now drooped slightly with weariness as he made his slow way back to his favorite thinking spot. It was a place he had come to cherish—a smooth, sun-warmed stone tucked quietly at the edge of the sprawling field, nestled beneath the sweeping branches of a tall willow tree. The willow’s slender limbs swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering soft secrets that danced just out of earshot of the rest of the noisy world.

Quincy had discovered this stone last spring, not long after the snows had melted and the grasses were still young and short, filling the air with the fresh, earthy scent of rain-soaked soil. The stone was unlike any other in the meadow—shaped exactly like a teardrop, with a gentle curve that fit perfectly beneath his small quail body, as if it had been made just for him. What made it even more special was the fact that no one else seemed to notice it. The bustling rabbits, chattering sparrows, and even his own playful siblings never strayed this far. It was his secret—a quiet island in the middle of a noisy sea.

Now, as the golden sun began to dip low behind the rolling hills, painting the sky with soft streaks of tangerine and lilac, Quincy padded carefully up the gentle slope and climbed onto his stone perch. The surface was still warm from the day’s sun, pressing softly against his belly like a soothing sigh. The willow’s leaves rustled quietly above, creating a gentle, soothing melody that almost managed to hush the rest of the world.

Around him, the field remained alive with evening activity. The crickets had begun their twilight chorus, their rhythmic chirping rising and falling like waves washing over the meadow. Nearby, his siblings tumbled in a game of hide-and-peep, their chirps and peals of laughter ringing bright and clear through the cooling air. Above the wildflowers, fireflies blinked lazily in the growing dusk, their tiny lanterns flickering in soft, meandering zigzags as they danced among the blooms.

But here, on his stone, Quincy closed his eyes and imagined the noise shrinking smaller and smaller—until it was just a distant murmur, like a faraway river flowing quietly beneath the earth. He breathed deeply, filling his chest with the warm scent of clover and the cool, fresh breath of dusk. The world felt like it slowed down in this little pocket of peace, just for him.

“I just want one quiet place,” he murmured softly to the sky, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Just one.”