Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The elfin black woodpecker limps across the rime covered front lawn of Kasimov's most prestigious University—a school relish in wildlife and life research, as well as megatronics.
It is a shame, how the small foot of the bird is curved inward as it struggles through the long strands of grass, like a short athlete running over side-swept hurdles. A thick black crust follows the mutilated toes of the bird, slowly melting away as it comes into contact with dewdrops from the melting rime. The black, oily feathers of the bird withstand the cold drops of water tacking to the bird like leaches, bearing down a little more weight than the bird weighed before. As if with every accumulating drop of water from the grass, the bird struggles more and more and more, experiencing a difficulty so great that life itself does not seem worth the struggle anymore. With closer observation, it became quite obvious that this bird had been injured. A yellow tag is tied around the unscathed ankle of the bird, committing it to humanity rather than to wildlife.
The bird did not pick the kindest place to injure itself, either. It is stuck in the quad of grass where three out of the four sides of the quad happens to be framed with ribbons of tar and stillborn motor vehicles, holding the hand of the sidewalk. The sidewalk is populated with students in ugg-boots and oversized jackets, some rushing and others languidly strolling to their next class. On the far side of the quad, is a cracked stone staircase leading up to the main admin building of St Nicholas University. The building was erected in 1700, the handiwork of an unknown architect and builder, with a silver minaret peaking high above the rest of the roof and ornamental whitewashed walls, softly cracking with age. The old windows and doors were recently replaced with simplistic aluminium frames to ensure safety and weather-resistance to the workers and visitors who enter the building.
Ilya Alexandrovich Orlov sits at the bottom of the Admin Building's staircase, blankly staring at the black woodpecker, still struggling in the middle of a mucky footpath. Ilya's body is wrapped up in a puffy cream parka, the excess material bunching next to his hips, crusting around him like skinfolds. Tied around his head, is a plush black beanie drawn to his eyebrows, trying to minimize the amount of skin the cold air can touch. His throat is basically unnoticeable beneath a tousled black scarf, wrung around his neck a few times. In some distorted way, the cold still has a way to seep through the pores of the clothing, biting into his skin like a nest of spiders crawling over a prey.
The bird finally collapses into the long strands of grass, the strands cupping around the bird's plump black body like a cradle around an infant. Ilya holds his breath, trying to convert his attention to anything better. But the trees chirp with songs and the pothole filled road squeals with tire treads. His jaw clenches, his teeth digging into the plush of his cheeks, watching the bird flap its wings helplessly, trying to attract some sort of attention for help or relief.
How would it feel to trap the bird's head between his fingers? Would the bird squirm? Would it try to peck Ilya's hand? Or would the bird remain in his grip quietly, giving trust to him as the bird had done plenty of times before to other humans who didn't desire to harm him? Would the bird cry out for help, squirming in his hands like a fish in a net?
