The Mystical Breezes

“Mother, look at that unsightly bird! It’s got black specks on its breast! How can the Bird Park consider that their star attraction?”

I was dumbfounded and full of confusion about what that impertinent youngster was speaking about. I am a Rainbow Lorikeet, with a plumage draped intricately in red topped by cerulean blue and greens partnered with sparkling gold. As a chick, I fell from my nest in the Chilean forest - into the enclosed space of a net. Upon arrival at the Bird Park, I underwent rigorous vocal training to attain my harmonic voice. My gorgeous, vibrant appearance and my mellifluous, melodic voice makes me the superstar at this sanctuary. The Bird Park is a paradise of multi-coloured flowers, green shrubs and  brown sycamore trees.

That afternoon, I decided to preen myself. WHAT ON EARTH HAS HAPPENED TO ME? The sight of the matted black spots on my breast left me tear-stricken and heart-broken. Just then, I saw the zookeeper strolling down the trail.

Excellent! I thought. When the zookeeper unlocked my cage door, I swooped out immediately and flew to the imposing glass sanctuary that housed our grandiose Lord Alexander, a cantankerous Cassowary.

“John, the haze and smog is adversely affecting us. Many parents are keeping their children indoors. Our ticket sales for the past two weeks have plummeted.” The manager complained.

“Mr. Strathmore, some of our birds have lost their appetite due to ailments caused by the haze,” said John.

Upon hearing that, I had to break the news to Lord Alexander.

“Fret not. I believe the haze will dissipate soon.” He told me, calmly.

That didn’t happen. In fact, the pollution intensified and many of the small perching birds were down on their knees with terrible illnesses. The effects on me was no less devastating. My colourful plumage is being tainted with smog, and I’m losing my melodic voice.

I overheard Mr. Strathmore and John rambling again.

“John, we’re suffering drastic losses. If the condition doesn’t improve by the end of this month, we’ll have to close down the Bird Park,” said Mr. Strathmore.

“I understand. Sir, a dozen of our birds have died. We can’t continue to let the birds live in this state.” Said John.

 “Yup. John, we can’t run this business with the birds and our visitors dwindling. You’ll have to find new employment soon.” Said Mr. Strathmore.

I didn’t nibble a seed at noon. I was moping over three things: the air pollution, the fact that I was going to be homeless once the Bird Park closed, and that I had lost my refined and smooth tone of voice. Just then, a sudden gust of wind whipped me wildly around my cage like a pinball machine. The cage door swung open and a time capsule dropped suddenly from a cloud in the sky. It engulfed me, and as it zoomed off, a blinding ray of light blazed my eyes. The rest was darkness.

When I finally came round, I noticed something had come over me. I still couldn’t sing as mellifluously as before, and my feathers were still fairly dull, but I was no longer housed in my cage. I finally realised time had rewritten and now I was a chick, sitting on a luxuriously- comfy carpet of feathers. Outside my peep hole, I was back in the Chilean rainforest, with lush and dewy green grass, towering trees overlooking the murky tan-coloured waters of the river, and for contrast, red and blue macaws shaving bits of clay off the grandiose clay mountains. And the sky was azure blue with magnolia clouds, not the disagreeable ominous haze over a saddening palette of sky. I grinned, and curled up to sleep in the nest.

The End.

Representing KTJ Primary for Fobisia Short Story Competition 2017