Where did the Birds go

Once upon a time, or so the stories told, there had thriving forests of greens and blues and flowers of all the colours. With ferns and mosses of all variants, living infinitely among their own.

Now there were none.

Once upon a time, there had been birds of all colours, of all variants, shapes and hues.

Now there were none.

A long long time ago, as my father, and his father had told, the birds had gone. Gone northward, southward, wherever they could live on and sustain themselves under the roaring heats of the sun.

So now, there were none.

Then, when several years had passed and I was of age, I decided to travel. Travel northward, or southward, to where the birds had gone. To where I could see the wonders of the shapes, the colours, the hues.

For days I trudged along in the sand, the dead remains of what once was, seeking shapes or colours or anything on the horizon.

Yet all I found was the vast blue and the sea of yellow grains.

Nights later, without relief from the heat of the day and without relief from the cold of the night, I found birds. Birds circling in the distance, awaiting something. I looked closer and squinted, and I saw a man. A man like me, dressed in white, trudging along in the sand, with little to nought of weight in his pack. I yelled with what little of a voice I had left, with what little of a voice the heat had not stolen from me. The traveler stumbled, but carried on. I followed him, through the mountains and waves of the yellow sea.

I followed the man up a dune, using hands and feet at times. When I reached the top of the hill, I saw ahead the beginning of what had not yet disintegrated into grain. And farther ahead I saw faint shades of colours, though I knew not what they stood for. I looked for the man, but he was no more.

I kept on trudging, with only the birds in my mind.

And then I heard the chips and sounds of wonderful songs I could have never thought of before. Tunes and rhythms of all kinds, with repeating patterns, with wonderful randomness. I kept on walking. Nay, I ran. I ran with what little strength I had left, with that last drop of determination I knew I still possessed.

I saw them, fluttering and dancing and prancing in the structures of great strength, with a roof so large I could not think of anything to contest it with.

I felt happiness. I was thankful for everything I had done to be here. Felt glad for the man who had shown me here. The birds were now around me, laughing with me, dancing with me, without the slightest worry in the world. Without the smallest care for anything but glee.

I was glad.