By The Window Two Birds Sing
There was once a boy who lived in a room, alone. No one ever came to visit him, and he was very lonely. Then one morning he heard two birds calling through his window. "Kwu, kwu," they called. The boy ran to the window. But when he got there, they stopped singing and he saw them flying away, over the rooftops. "Come back!" the boy cried, but the two birds kept flying, and were gone. The next morning the boy heard the two birds again calling, "Kwu, kwu," but when he ran to the window, they flew away again. He cried, "Come back!" but they were gone. The next day, and for many days after that, the same thing happened: in the morning the two birds came, calling "Kwu, kwu"; the boy ran to the window; but the birds flew away.
Years passed, and the boy grew into a young man, and more years passed, and the young man grew into an old man, and still the birds came and called "Kwu, kwu"; and the boy who was now an old man ran to the window and cried, "Come back!" but the birds were gone. And then one morning the old man became very old, so old that he couldn't get up out of his bed any more. The two birds called, "Kwu, kwu," but the very old man did not run to the window; instead he said, "I'm sorry, my dear birds, but I'm too old to come to the window now. And if I did, you would just fly away anyway." And he sighed.
But the two birds did not fly away this time. Instead, they flew through the window right into his room, and landed on the very old man's chest. "Kwu, kwu," they called, and the very old man turned from very old, to just old. And then they called again, "Kwu, kwu," and the old man turned into a young man. They called again, "Kwu, kwu," and the young man became a boy again. And the boy said to the two birds, "Now I know why you always fly away. So I will keep calling you back again." And then suddenly the birds flew out the window, and the boy lept out of his bed and ran to the window, crying, "Come back!" but the birds flew over the rooftops, and were gone.
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I think it is an interesting story. Definitely one that got me to think. First, this boy/old man calls everyday for the birds to comeback and while they don't comeback when he wants them to they comeback every morning. Then when the boy now an old man can no longer call for them at the window the birds come to him and make him young again. He being young now has the ability to call again everyday.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if this is what you intended your story to mean, but I saw a parallel with the spirit and the birds. It seems that throughout my life when I have attempted to have the spirit with me, it comes but when I notice that it is there it goes away waiting to see if I call it back (like the birds). Then when I stop looking for it and do those actions that would bring the spirit back (live in the same house so the birds can "comeback") the spirit does comeback. In my case it comes back when I need it most. Never abandoning me, even when I might think it is, it'll come in through the window and give me new life so that I might call upon it again.
Hmmm. I'm trying to figure out what this story means to me. It seems I often don't get exactly what the author intended, but I make it mean something that I want it to instead(which always frustrated me in lit class, cause I was tired of people telling me what the story meant. I mean, sheesh, did they write it?)
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I noted that the boy was very lonely and no one ever came to visit him. Why? Because he was "different," sick, or a prisoner? Did he have to stay in the room all the time? Did this continue his whole life? Hmmm.
I'm going to say it was because he was just stuck where he was, living the life he was born into. Like anyone. And don't most of us often feel that there aren't many people who really want to talk to us anyway? So this story is about me and what I look forward to. I go about my daily routine and, every so often, catch a glimpse (or sound) of something beautiful, something that makes me want to catch it and listen to it forever. But this thing is elusive. It only gives me small glimpses. And I worry that if I do not run and call every time I hear it, it might stop coming. So I learn to listen for it's call, and learn to run to it, and learn to not be too disappointed when it flies away 'cause it'll be coming back soon. And that's enough.
The best part of it all is what I find out as I grow tired. I find that if I've truly used all the energy I'm capable of every day, on that day when I am too old, and don't have the strength to run, the glimpse will come to me. Not only will it come to me, it will give me the strength to try again tomorrow. Lovely. But I also know that if I don't run tomorrow, but just tell myself I'm too tired, it will know and may not come back again.
Thanks for the post, Dad. It's given me a lot to think about (even if it's not what you meant!)
I love your responses--they add dimensions to the story. I was wondering what the story meant myself. . .
ReplyDeleteWhen I saw that Adele had started this blog, and she mentioned that stories might be included, I went into my files and found this one. Do you find that when you're writing a story, sometimes you come to the realization that a certain twist should happen--that thing feels true--even though the story is just a story, and you could do, literally, anything?
Yes! So often I just start writing... to write. I enjoy letting the story go where it wants to (which doesn't always produce the most coherent work). Your stories always seem very thought out. I like this one for lots of reasons, including how you were able to say so much with so few words. Brevity can be so powerful. Did you know where this story was going when you started writing it?
ReplyDeleteI don't think I had an idea where it would go when I started it. But I knew I wanted something to "happen" in the story.
ReplyDeleteI wrote the story for a children's music class to introduce a song of the same name. In fact, I made a first attempt at writing the story about two birds singing with the following story (which I rejected--it is kind of unbalanced):
One morning, when it was time for the sun to get up and shine on the world, he just rolled over in bed and decided to sleep a while longer. Soon he was snoring loudly, dreaming about planets and stars and comets.
When the people of the world noticed that the sun didn't come up that morning, they became very afraid. Little children cried, old men cried, mothers cried, brave soldiers cried. The animals of the world were frightened, too. Dogs howled, tigers whined, even moles in their dark holes underground shivered with fright. The weather itself began to be afraid, and the wind started howling, and the earth itself began to shake. And so, this morning that wasn't morning, was a very unhappy time. And the sun snoozed away in his bed.
Well, there were two young birds who loved to sing and they always sang every morning. And they decided that they would sing anyway, even if there was no sunshine; they loved music too much to be stopped by a little darkness. So they began to sing, just like they always did. A lady heard them and cried, "How can you sing on such a horrible morning?!" But they kept singing and singing.
And their music floated up high to where the sun was sleeping. The music entered his dream, and he dreamed it was a beautiful morning. Suddently he woke up and said, "How can I stay in bed on such a wonderful morning?!" And so he rose very quickly. And soon everyone was happy because it was such a wonderful morning. And the two birds flew away and played all day long.
I like this one too, for its own reasons! I don't think it's unbalanced at all. I know the song you're referring to; too bad I've never known the story as I've played it (or 'stories,' actually). I think the other story seems a little 'deeper' while this one is more of a fable (with the personification of the sun, etc.) But both are good. Have you ever thought about taking one of the short stories you've written and turning it into a full-fledged novel? I think it would be fun to put together a book of short stories by anyone who wanted to contribute (which this blog could help, as we could get feedback here before we sent in the finished drafts). Think of all the different writing styles!
ReplyDeleteSo, it's time for you to post a story!
ReplyDeleteJosh and I were talking about the Spirit last night, and so his interpretation of your story really rang true with what I have been thinking on that subject. And I think I grasped what Camilla was talking about-- a glimpse of something beautiful-- you can never quite catch it or hold it...
ReplyDeleteSomething that you might think is silly that I liked about your story is the fact that you didn't explain why the boy was in the room, or what he did all day, or how he ate, or where he went to the bathroom. I feel like nowadays in our books and movies, those things so often have to be explained. Every detail has to be accounted for. It is a breath of fresh air to imagine the little world you have created where those things don't matter. (incidentally, I felt the same about a story Camilla sent me earlier today which I hope she will post on here soon).
For me, when I read your story, I couldn't quite grasp what it could or should mean-- it was a story both elusive and beautiful. I did think, however, that the man had been doing it all wrong the whole time-- why did he keep running to the window every day if it never worked? Why didn't he just give up and try something else? I think I would have. Once he did give up, the birds actually came to him! But maybe it was like Camilla and Josh were saying-- when you finally just don't have the strength, or when you truly truly need it, only then will it come to you.
I also enjoyed reading the second version of the story. It would lend well to a children's story with illustrations :)
I agree, it is important, what a story doesn't explain. There are some Old Testament accounts that are like that, but what is there stands out in bold relief. I wonder if a story could be based completely on what is not said. I also think that the puzzling elements of a story ("why didn't he just . . .") might connect somehow into a writer's fundamental world for a source--things that are taken for granted by that individual--like the idea: "We're not sure who discovered water, but we're pretty sure it wasn't the fish."
ReplyDeleteI'm not going to read any comments before I comment...
ReplyDeleteThis is an interesting story. At first I thought that maybe the birds were a sort of allegory for life, and that the glass of the window was sort of an analogy for separation from life. And then when I finished the story I thought maybe the birds were more about human relationships? That connection to another person brings life and meaning, thus the person became younger and younger (therefore, more full of life??) But that human connection is fleeting.
I'm really not sure. Now I'll read everyone else's brilliant comments and get some other ideas maybe.
I like the idea of the spirit, and also of perfect beauty being more fleeting. For some reason we value things more when we can't claim them? anyway. The second version of the story was interesting in it's own way... I think in a way similar to Camilla's story. How attitude (or perhaps someone else's willingness to "be a light", etc) can completely change the world for the individual.
ReplyDelete