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The Good Stuff
Short Story
Tale Of A Talking Bird
by Dan Akinlolu
Length: 1,338 words 

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Tale Of A Talking Bird 
(Dedicated to the Tsunami victims)

There was a prophecy that I will catch a bird. And it would be a talking bird.

It was few days to New Year.  At that time I was young, and we were living in a tent.  There were many people living in tents like us.  Those who survived the storm couldn’t help than to live in tents, and mourn their lost loved ones. 

I couldn’t find my younger siblings either, but I saw Jude’s slippers floating on the pond close to the bus stop.  I couldn’t figure out what was really happening because I was young and could barely remember my age.  Somehow, I knew something terrible had happened to everyone in our community.

There was too much water, strong enough to carry houses, cars, fishing boats, and trees about the whole place.  Debris, tires, broken chairs, curtains, cooking pots, metals, dead animals, they were floating all about the place like paper.

Mum wept too, but quickly wiped her tears when the preacher came to admonish her.  She complained that Dad and Grandma are still missing, but Jude, Lucy and Matilda had gone with the flood.  Mum sobbed and said she needed direction, because nothing frustrate her destiny more than the lack of direction.  It appeared the sky was angry against us, and water became our enemy to make us children of the storm.

“Is God changing His mind?” I asked Mum.  

She paused and glanced at me.  

“What?” she asked, startled and wondering why I interrupted her discussion with the preacher.  

I was lying down, and sick with infection from bruises.  The clinic was overcrowded with severe cases so I had to stay in the tent.  I have just had the last drop of my cough syrup shortly before the preacher came in.

“I mean God …” I repeated.

“Did He change his mind?” I still ask, this time I shifted on my side.

The preacher looked at me too and said, “Changed his mind on what?” 

“About the judgment day.  God said he would use fire, and not water.  Now we have flood all over the place” I retorted. 

The preacher smiled.  

“This flood is a re-birth of destiny” he replied, but I didn’t understand him. 

I rolled on my back and coughed, because it was cold and I was catching it. There are many plasters all over my face.  I was thinking about the talking bird, when the preacher said he would be leaving.  I ask mum if I could walk with him, especially adding that I needed fresh air.  Mum agreed, but she warned me not to go too far, and to check the medical centre if any relief materials had arrived.  

I held tight to my crutches because I had a broken bone in addition to my bruises.  I actually can manage without it ... truth was ... using crutches was a new status, a new identity for a new me.

“And one more thing …” mum shouted at my back.

“No excuses about any talking bird, just come home on time.  Okay?” she warned.  

I nodded and smiled.

We walk on in silence, “Tell me the truth, preacher, is God using water?” 

“No.  It is fire this time.” he replied, and hugged me not to scare me. 

I was indifferent.  Either water or fire, I wouldn’t know which was better ... but water was worse.  I wanted to ask him about the talking bird too.  Did it really exist?  Grandpa told me there was a bird in the time of Noah that could talk and tell when the flood goes down.  Would the bird come to us? To tell us there is hope for the survivors?

“Be a good boy to your mother, okay?” the preacher advised and I nodded.

It was a sign that he was through with my company.  He walked faster towards the chapel to meet with other relief workers and volunteers.  I stared at him in silence, and the cough took over my throat.  

Somehow my watery eyes landed on a bird, trapped among wash-away palm fronds and debris.  It looked like a cuckoo.  I threw my crutches aside and pick up the bird.  There were thin threads and twine that entangles its legs.  There was something unhappy about it too.

“Please don’t kill me!”  

I heard a voice.  I thought it was the preacher.  I looked around; everyone seemed busy with their business.

“Please don’t kill me!” the voice again, it was a chirpy, tiny voice.  

Talking bird? Could I have caught that legendary bird that talked to Noah during the first deluge?

“You talk to me?” I ask the bird.

“Please don’t kill me!” 

I laughed.  I wasn’t afraid.  What a marvellous bird.

“I will show you to everyone” I said.  

The bird fluttered in my hand but couldn’t escape.  I removed the threads carefully and marvel at its beauty.

“I will build a cage for you.  Mother will like you.”  I spoke to the bird, “Everyone will like you because you will make us happy.”

“Please don’t do that to me.  I will give you anything you want, don’t just put me in cage” the bird retorted.  

What a glorious thing!  A talking bird!

“Okay I shall tell you three things to make you rich,” the bird said.

“Rich?” I ask but startled.

“Yes.  Just three things I have told Kings and Lords” the bird replied. 

That was exactly what we need after a disaster.  If I could keep a legendary bird that would make money for mother and I, then I’d better not show it to anyone.  I felt that would be better.  

“Then tell me,” I whispered.

“First, always be sure to keep what you have” the bird chirped.

“What has that got to do with money?” 

“May be when I tell you the second one” the bird reply.

“Go ahead.”

“Do not cry over what you cannot have.”

I was confused.  “ Are you sure I will be rich with these?” I asked.

“Not until I tell you the third one.  Would you let me fly to that tree for convenience?” the bird pleaded, and I didn’t hesitate to let go the talking bird because I was choking the bird.  Besides the tree was just a few meters from me.  The bird seemed happier staying on a tree branch and chatting with me below.

“You know something?  What was the first lesson?” the bird ask.

“Be sure to keep what you have” I replied.

“Did you keep me?” the bird inquired cunningly.

“No” I replied slowly.

“Then you’ve lost, because I was about to lay five golden eggs.”

I nearly screamed and wanted to catch the bird all over, but it was difficult, I couldn’t reach the branch.  I felt stupid to have let the bird fool me.  I cried more because I lost an opportunity.

“What was the second lesson I taught you?” the bird interrupted me.

“Do not cry over what you cannot have” I replied amidst sobs.

“Then why are you crying when you cannot have me?”

I stopped crying and looked up at the branch, “You’re playing me bird!”

“Well, not really ... the third, and the last, lesson …” the bird chirped, “Never you trust every opportunity until you are prepared for the challenges.”  

The bird said and flew away.

It was the preacher’s jab that jeered me to life.  The preacher looked at me weirdly, and wondered why I was talking to a cuckoo toy bird and myself.

“What were you doing with that in your hand?” the preacher asked. 

I was holding a toy bird trapped among the debris with twine all over it.  I looked at the toy and said, “I was making a tale out of the toy.”

“Go home. Your mother needs you” he said, and went back to the chapel.

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