Chapter 3
(Disclaimer: See Chapter 1)
(Here is the 3rd chapter...the fourth one is coming very soon!)
The blues sat nervously as two figures loomed above them. Their shadows covered the warm and inviting sunlight and meadows. The blues were pieces of loot; the subject of an argument of custody but ignored, the plaintiff and defendant too self-absorbed in obstreperous argument. Matilda stood on the left. Red stood on the right. The blues were the judge, having seen long, mundane arguments over what was supposedly for their best safety but ended up being distant, querulous feuds that only made things worse.
"They must rest for the time being, Red." Matilda spoke calmly, rage leaking from her lips.
"I understand, Matilda, but—"
She interrupted Red in that same callous, genteel voice that froze skin on contact. "No, I do not think you understand. Just this morning they came to be afraid. From what, you ask? The dream, Red. The dream where they crash into a fort and die a painful horrifying death, do you understand, you will torture them by moving this harrowing nightmare into reality! No, I absolutely forbid it."
Well, that was it. Red hated how she always made Red to be the bad guy. The blues thought of him as meanie Red, communist Red, scary Red. "You have no authority over this matter, Matilda!" He shouted back, his militant mind slowly warming up. The blues huddled in fear of a scalding burn. He inched closer to her. "I have been appointed as leader of the Flock, and you will follow my orders, do you understand? Now I say they must be training for an inevitable conflict, and they must!" His case was supported by a swift blow to the mandible.
"What have you done to the Flock, you bastard?" The female plaintiff accused, her voice raspy from the dent in her beak. "Have heart, Red! They have just recovered from a major coma. They are sick. They are tired. They are battered. They are—"
"Matilda—"
"Goddamn it Red, let me finish!" The blues held their breath. They never heard Matilda, innocent Matilda, friendly Matilda, mother Matilda, make-you-eat-your-vegetables Matilda, strict Matilda, disciplinarian Matilda, ever curse before. Matilda must have thought the blues were deaf with infancy. Their ears began opening up: does the preacher enforce his doctrine on his most challenging disciple: himself? The preacher must correct their wrongdoing, for the minions have risen to the altar, just enough to pick the brain of their superior, to listen at their level.
It seemed a while before Red's trepidation and the blues' fazed eyes seemed to subside and they grabbed the courage to say something. Jake blurted, "I wanna play!", and Matilda turned to Red, his plumage flushed in humiliation, with a look like "I told you so". And so she escorted the blues out to leisure activities, her beak held high. Red stared at the ground as she left. But this would not last long, he was hopeful. The blues' minds would soon be freed from the clouds of infancy.
(To be continued...)