Swany Birds

The wagon hit a bump and I near hit my head on the carriage ceiling and I didn’t want to be there if I’m honest. “There” being on the road to see Jagar, the patriarch mystic magician of our big village. He’s supposed to bestow gifts and prophecies on us when we turn eighteen. “Us” being the class of Nobles. See, we’re special, we’ve been told, because our grandfathers made a lot of money by pillaging and burning other smaller villages a long time ago. The elders say the surrounding little villages were full of bad scary people who wanted to destroy us but I don’t believe that. It’s pretty clear to me we were probably more the bad guys in those wars. If you saw how angry my father got about little dumb things you’d think the same way as me.

I didn’t really believe the magic stuff either. Or that because our grandfathers murdered, raped and stole from a bunch of innocent people a long time ago, that that makes us Nobles, or kids of the Nobles, any better than the commoners. The lower classes have prettier girls who are prettier even though they don’t wear all the heavy gaudy makeup and fancy dresses. They look like they float to me. I guess I’m pretty horny all the time.

My older brother Sethin died shortly after his “patriarch blessing” by Jagar. So, that makes me a bit apprehensive of getting my own “blessing”. Jagar prophesied that Sethin would be a powerful wizard king, basically. He said Sethin would have powers to command stars and steer comets or some such. Jagar’s words are all gibberish you have to try and decipher using detective skills. But that’s bull poop because my brother died from the latest plague. It killed a ton more commoners of course but it also killed my brother. There are plagues happening all the time. And wars. And bulls pooping.

Thing is, the Elders and really the whole society, can’t admit that prophecies are phony and magic isn’t real. Otherwise they’d have to admit that their whole identities and selves are phony and they have way too much pride for that. Failed prophecies are always reasoned to be not failed prophecies in these really ridiculous convoluted ways and excuses. So I’m sure Jagar will say that his prophecy about my brother wasn’t wrong but just premature and was really about me, or some such nonsense. I’m really looking forward to that. (I’m being sarcastic).

In the wagon I was thinking of the lagoon in Nobel Fair Park. It was winter and the lake froze over and I wondered if the Swany Birds were there and if they weren’t where did they go. I asked the driver. He didn’t talk much but he seemed like a nicer guy than most.

“They fly south, everyone knows that” he told me.

“Do you know that for sure?” I prodded.

“Sure I know that for sure,” he said.

“I’d like to see for myself,” I said.

“See what?” he asked.

“It the Swany Birds are at the lake or not.”

“They’re not,” he said. “We’re on a timeline here; we can’t go to the lake.”

That irked me. I sneered. “No we’re not. Besides, I out rank you, smart guy. You have to do what I say. Maybe you don’t like those rules but those are the rules. I may be prophesied to be a powerful king wizard too like my brother was, by the way, I think you should know. Which I think you probably do know.”

While looking at the back of his head I could still sense his eye roll. “Your dead brother,” he grumbled.

I kind of liked him for saying it although the death still stung. My brother Sethin was a great guy. A hundred times better than I’ll ever be. I liked the driver’s smart aleck response but I had to pretend to be angry and offended, which is what I did. I can be pretty annoying when I want.

“Okay, okay,” my driver relented. He called me sir in a sarcastic way which made me not like him as much, maybe I guess because he reminded me of what I don’t like about myself. It’s so hard to make friends with even the dumbest people when you’re me. After he turned I did smile, just because I was glad to not be headed towards Jagar anymore.

I ate and slept and we arrived at the lake by the next late morning. The lake was mostly frozen. I walked around the lake edge looking for those Swany Birds. They weren’t around anywhere. It’s too bad because they really are pretty when they want to be. White long necks. When they invert their wings they showcase this brilliant burst of shimmering bright colors; every pretty color you can think of. They do that as part of their mating ritual. The boys do. The girls don’t have to work to get laid, but I guess they end up doing more work on account that they lay the eggs. Anyways, the boys puff out their body too and they look like big puffy clouds. If you’re not a Noble I guess you haven’t seen that. The Swany Birds are only kept at this lake that only Nobles get to go to.

Except in the winter when the Swany Birds just disappear. No one knows exactly where they go. Who gets to see them where they go, I wonder? Anyone or no one? Just nature’s naked eyes? Isn’t it weird to think that nature just happens, even when there’s no one else to see it? Like, it doesn’t care if we watch it or not. These birds don’t care if we exist or watch them or not. I thought of this while walking, looking at my breath puffs, my face turning red and numb with cold, and it hurt my feelings a little bit if I’m being honest.

What if the Swany Birds decide not to come back after the lake thaws when it becomes warmer this time? If I were them I wouldn’t want to come back. Don’t they know it sucks here? I’m sure it’s better wherever it is they go.

The elders told me my brother went to a better place after he died. The same people who told me this are the same ones who believed Jagar when he told them that my brother was destined for greatness. These people are the same people that believe in Jagar and others like him even when they prove to be wrong over and over again. These people’s minds are broken and I don’t know how we’ve survived as long as we have being so stupid. The Swany Birds will outlive us all and when we’re gone, all died off by plagues or wars or our own stupidity, they won’t care and they won’t cry at all. They won’t even notice we’re gone I bet.

I’d like a cape made out of the feathers of these Swany Birds. And a hat. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to try and be charming or funny or anything or try to get girls to like me. Maybe this cape would make me fly like a bird and also never cry either because birds don’t cry, I’m pretty sure. Life would be easier if you just didn’t care about anything, but that’s not anything you can really help. I care about the Swany Birds and think of them but they don’t care or think about me, and even though I know this I can’t stop caring about them or thinking about them. It’s funny how our minds wander off.

Anyways I was at the frozen lake just thinking all these random things which jumbled all together into a cluster so thick it became like I was thinking nothing at all. And in that moment, in the cold, I felt a bit numb of everything and it felt peaceful and nice in a weird way which I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Just pretending that there was no time or anything at all.