They say her name is Artima, though they don’t use it often; it’s mostly just derogatory terms. They are strange creatures with mean, squinty eyes and impatient dispositions, and they keep her in a wire cage within a slightly bigger metal cage. There are no trees…or anything green for that matter. Artima can hardly remember what wind feels like. After all, how long has it been?
Too long.
For too long, her life has been confined to twenty-five square inches, where the only activities are to sit and to sleep. Today is no different. One of the men – the meanest one – rises and rattles her cage violently with both hands, laughing cruelly when Artima rustles in fear. Then he kicks at his companions to wake them up before stepping out. When he opens the door, Artima catches the smaller stream of moonlight before it disappears with a slam. A few minutes later, the man returns with colorful boxes. Inside one of them is Artima’s food: a small brown meat disk. He tosses it carelessly into Artima’s enclosure. “Eat this, ya stinker,” he sneers.
Artima has no choice but to swallow the cold, tough meat, all the while desperately wishing for tender, fresh prey. The other men seem to enjoy their meal; they eat their disks with two slices of soft bread, a green leaf, and a generous amount of golden cheese. Their loud chewing is accompanied by equally noisy jabbering.
“Today’s the day, folks! We’re gonna get that stupid owl off of our hands.”
“Really? Who’s buyin’ it?”
“Steve.”
“How much is he gonna pay?”
“A pretty penny. I mean, who knew Northern Saw-whet owls would be worth that much? Anyway, he’s two hours away. Then we’ll drive another hour to deliver those blue butterflies in the other van. Some old lady wants them to make earrings.”
“Great, then let’s get going. I’ll drive this van. You’ll take the other, Reggie?”
“Sure thing, but I –aw, shut up, will ya?“
The exclamation is clearly directed towards Artima’s hooting. She stops immediately.
The meanest man gets up and heads to the front of the van. He sits down and takes the circular wheel in his hands. Soon after, a loud rumbling starts up and surrounds Artima. She has heard it many times before, but it still causes her ear tufts to instinctively rise. Then the ground begins to shake, and Artima gets the sense that everything is moving. She turns her head back and forth, hoping to get a glimpse of a window, but there are curtains drawn up everywhere. The shifting and swaying of Artima’s surroundings do not match up with her innate sense of stability, and her stomach begins to churn. She desperately flaps her wings to escape unease, but there is nowhere to go. A hand bangs on her cage.
“Shut up!” a voice yells.
Helpless, Artima stops and stares straight ahead dully. At a certain point, she opens her beak to expel a small pellet; it has an abnormally unpleasant odor. One of the men yells in disgust but they don’t stop. They continue driving, talking to each other and cackling.
Finally, the van stops moving, and they all exit. For once, Artima is alone. She resignedly lets out a singular hoot. The men are just several feet outside – Artima can hear them speaking to yet another person. There is a pause, then the voices resume in more animated tones.
Crash!
Artima screeches and flutters her wings to no avail. Another unfamiliar man has broken one of the windows. The glass has shattered and fallen to the floor like small glittering diamonds. Bright moonlight illuminates the trespasser, who has a round face with long brown hair that shines like a river. With a grunt, he falls through the window hole and onto the floor. Glass pieces dig into his skin, but the man barely even flinches. His gaze is fixed on Artima.
She screeches even louder, but it doesn’t deter the man.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
He reaches out a hand with a small wire. When he gets close enough to Artima, she leans forward and sharply bites him. He winces but doesn’t draw back. Instead, he inserts the wire into the cage and wiggles it back and forth. There is a click, then the cage door swings open.
Artima and the man stare at each other motionlessly for several seconds; she is too shocked to move.
“Don’t wait,” the man whispers. “Go.”
She still doesn’t budge until suddenly, one of the men outside the van yells. There are approaching footsteps, and Artima immediately begins to unfurl her wings. She launches herself out of the cage, then out of the broken window. With each beat of her wings, she ascends effortlessly. Only the sky, a beautiful deep blue with glitter swirls of stars, is above her. From her lofty vantage point, Artima surveys the landscape below with rejuventated eyes.
To one side sprawls a grid of grey concrete and colorful vehicles, moving forward rapidly and without pause. There are skyscrapers that aggressively reach upwards like an enormous outstretched human hand. Lights flicker on and off, and a distant booming of music shakes the ground.
To the other side is a quiet patch of forest. A gust of wind sweeps through the trees, rustling the rich canopy and grass. The silvery glow from the moon is reflected by the meandering streams, and shadows of lively animals dance amidst the undergrowth. Artima can practically smell the shrew, and so without hesitation, she begins to fly towards the forest. The breeze caresses her feathers, and the sensation is electrifying. Artima lets out a chirp of joy, and for once, there is no man to silence her.
She is free.
Written by Jessica Jiang from Pleasanton, CA
