To see the incredible art that this story was based on, check it out at her page here:   6mels9
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They really weren’t that bad, actually; they were still slightly warm, and were a good crispy consistency, as any boardwalk fry should be. It wouldn’t hurt to help another; better she had it than the flocking seagulls.

Astrid had gotten a little ahead of her friend Ingrid on the boardwalk; she stayed back to pick out a magnet souvenir from one of the shops, and Astrid had gotten bored of the place. After all, who wouldn’t want to spend as much time as possible looking out across this beautiful wood strewn waterfront?

She smiled to herself, grabbing another fry with fingers that were beginning to stretch out towards the paper bowl, making the abandoned snack easier to reach, but all the harder to hold. Quickly shoveling her handful into her mouth, she looked to the store where her friend would emerge, and idly scratched at her arms, not noticing the light, thin white feathers springing up like stubborn hairs across her skin.

Her legs picked up idly from the ground, bending as she impatiently chewed the fries. Her rear end shaking slightly to readjust whatever was going on back there. It swept up the back of her Ocean City sweatshirt just to set itself free; in a gust of wind Astrid’s seagull tail feathers sprung into existence. It was a surprising feeling, and one that elicited a muffled *guaa* as she gulped down the salty fry. Now it seemed difficult to grab another one… for her fingers had grown to comedically feathered proportions; her wrists receding, giving way to big strokes of white wing fingers, that could still bend in unison at her intention— they did little in the way of feather grabbing.

Luckily, as if considering her conundrum, a seagull landed on the table, also eyeing the abandoned paper bowl. Astrid tilted her head, in what can only described as an avian fashion, as if to ask “what now?” The seagull took some careful steps further, poked a fry with his beak, and flew away with his spoils!

‘That's it!’ thought Astrid, licking her dry lips in anticipation of her next bite, her mouth losing its softness in the breeze, extending past where her tongue could reach. She shifted again on her feet, which were now covering themselves in a dry, bumpy texture as her bulging tri-toes still sat comfortably between their flip flops. Her conic mouth clacked together as her feathering head bobbed slightly in anticipation for the grab, her glasses delicately balancing on the beakish protrusion set on the potatoey target, her tail feathers set in place for the dive.

She bobbed down in a moment of uncharacteristic seagull grace, her beak slapping against the bottom of the paper bowl as a broken fry or two bounced upwards into her mouth. She nearly lost her footing, and fell backwards against a boardwalk stump, her taloned legs kicking up into her vision. Upon completion of the most recent fry mission, she let out an elated chortle, her finishing wings fluttering in front of her in some sort of silly feathered victory dance.

“Astrid, what the hell is going on?! What are you doing?”

“What! No one was gonna eat them…”