Ok. So, this was for Zilamunster's contest.
I did try to write in this style that I thought could help the story, but it just fails.
***
A fish market.
That's what Old Mrs. Black would've described the scene had she been in that area. A hundred heads were bobbing in excitement; some grooming themselves after their grueling travel, some carefree, some in reverie. But this mishmash of students had trained their ears to the flap of their teacher, to the exact flaps per minute. Among those shiny, black heads, one stood out, with it's sleek black plumage having a middle partition. The name tag on his left claw read 'Subbu.' And he is a proud to be tagged as a 'first bencher.'
Mrs. Black started handing out the reports, etched onto cut plantain leaves, to be preserved by the student. As Subbu strutted forward, he received an encouraging clawing on his back from Mrs. Black. He was pleased. Obviously that meant a good result.
He opened the leaf tilted his head to read the last number. There in big bold clawing were two lines. He was second in the class. How on earth was that possible? He couldn't have performed so terribly? Dejected, he didn't respond to the many 'congratulations'.
*
The deadline was a month. Subbu had a month to make sure he would emerge victorious. Every morning, he would fly aound his tree seven times with his mother to ward off the evil eye. Seven times daily, he said his prayers and washed his feet in the Sacred River.
But Subbu began to suspect these rituals. He heard Sarah was studying for eight hours a day, when he managed to do only six. It was also heard that Kalia, the class' worst student was putting in six hours daily. Subbu was disappointed that all his efforts couldn't help him.
A couple of months earlier, Subbu had overheard his father talk of a new life form, one that could affect all birds. The gears in Subbu's head started rolling.
What was it called? Hamp- no... Halo- no. It was an 'H' something. Hermophilus! Yes, that was it!
If only I knew where to find Hermo now. I wish father had told me where it started. Maybe then, I could've travelled. No one would know if I sneaked out at night.
*
A grey lump with pink flesh spilling marred the otherwise dry land. Yet it wasn't this sight, but that delicious smell from it that pulled Subbu down to the ground. Tearing the mouse apart with his beak, he noticed the chickens tottering across and yapping.
Those aren't real birds. They can't even fly. All they are capable of is crossing roads and gossiping.
Yet he couldn't help overhearing their conversation.
"Jay Mon is dead, eh?" asked one.
"Aye, Mon." said another.
"Jay Mon lived a happy life, but 'tis indeed said Invisible Mon attacked him." said the first.
A young chicken flapped toward the other two. "Vee Mon says the Invisible Mon are called Hemophilus."
"Young Mon, do not believe everything Vee Mon says. He is getting quite old." said another chicken. Or maybe it was the first chicken. Either way, Subbu didn't care.
All that mattered was the 'H' word!
He flew majestically over to them. After all, as a crow, he was entitled to show off. "My friends, chickens. I couldn't help but overhearing your conversation. What is this Hemophilus you speak of?"
One of the chickens , presumably their leader, strutted forward. "Crow Mon. It is a sad day for us; we have lost our brother. He succumbed to disease. Some say it's the new Invisble Mon called Hemophilus."
"Is that so? Poor Jay Mon. We were friends you see. Can I- Can I see him?"
"This way, sir." the leader replied.
"Chickens. They're easy to work with," thought Subbu.
Subbu picked a fallen leaf, still fresh green and headed to Jay Mon. The chicken as already rotting and Subbu knew he had to work fast.
He pressed the leaf against the chicken's body. The usually soft chicken feathers were hard as if it was starched. Subbu made sure the leaf touched a majority of Jay Mon's body.
After his goodbyes, Subbu soared up into the sun, holding his green leaf. The leaf that would take him to the coveted premier spot.
*
