Mynahs

It's turning dark, and the marketplace is eerily quiet.

A shop is still open, with one last good left displayed, unsold - Lying by the kerosene lamp that stands solemnly beside it.

This last 'good' lay motionless within its cage. Lame from birth, it was doomed to sheer nothingness in its existence and was starkly pathetic.

The small, crippled mynah shivered and chirped softly in the cold, eastern wind.

An old man walked towards the shop, just as the shopkeeper was bemoaning his invalid good.
'Toss it out I shall, into the cold and dark - There I shall be rid of it!'

The old man entered the shop, despite the 'Closed' sign.
The pet shop he found himself in, was a dirty and rundown place.
The harsh winds crept in through the cracks in the wall, displacing his hair and ruffling the thin feathers of the mynah.

'Sir, we are closed,' said the gnarly shopkeeper.
He was entirely unpleased at this old man's entrance.

'That bird in the cage.'
He walks to it.
'How much?'

'Well Sir, you can't possibly want this invalid creature. Good for nothing, it is - You best leave it to me to dispose of it.'

The old man rubbed his stubby chin, and remained silent.

'You see, the thing could never fly. All it does is seemingly whine with its incessant chirping in the daytime, eat in general compliance to what I feed it - And lie there, lame and pathetic. Nothing about it is special, nor will I ever find a selling point in this stupid bird. I don't even know why I let it live. I shall soon let it starve, the useless thing,' ranted the shopkeeper. His surly build and mean tone were indicators of his harsh character.

The old man folded his arms and let out a faint sigh.
'I'll take it,' he said at length.
'And I'll pay you for it.'
At this, the old man's greying eyes begin to glisten with the forming of a small tear... Few could ever notice it.

He took out all he had from the creased and aged wallet from his pocket, and put it on the counter. The shopkeeper counted 7 ten-dollar bills, much to his disbelief and laughed to himself at the old man's costly folly.

Taking the cage firmly under his arm, the old man walked out of the door.

It began to pour, and the night was chilly.
But the lame mynah, finding solace in its new master, would now sing a greater song than it once did.

Now, with the old man's loving sacrifice... Perhaps it would begin to fly again -

Albeit, in its own different way.