The Sad Nightingale

The Sad Nightingale

Writing No. 2402

Saturday, November 26, 2022

By Iman Javed

The sun had just set, leaving a soft orange glow lingering on the horizon. The air was calm, carrying a faint chill of the approaching night. Away from the village, frogs croaked in the drying pond, their sounds echoing across the still waters. Crickets intermittently played their tunes, pausing now and then as if checking their tiny instruments for the night ahead. On a branch of a nearby withered tree sat a nightingale, utterly sad. It neither moved nor chirped; it seemed as though it had forgotten the very art of singing. Its eyes reflected deep sorrow, and its feathers drooped in silence.

After a while, a tiny firefly appeared, glowing softly in the dimming light. It fluttered toward the nightingale, its light flickering like hope itself. Seeing it, the firefly approached and spoke with enthusiasm, “Dear Nightingale! I know why you are sad. You want to go home, but it is dark. Come, I will guide you. Finally, today I have a chance to do something good; I am here to help you.”

The nightingale lowered its head and replied softly, “No, I don’t want to go anywhere, because my home has been destroyed.”

“What happened to your home?” the firefly asked in surprise, hovering closer.

“The tree where my nest used to be… it has been cut down. In fact, all the surrounding trees are gone,” the nightingale said in a choked voice, its eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Yes, there were many trees here, but now there isn’t a single one. Why did they cut them down?” the firefly asked, looking around in disbelief.

“Do you see that highway?” the nightingale pointed toward a distant road. “They widened it. No one else was willing to give the land, so the government cut down all the old trees that once provided shade to travelers and homes to thousands of birds. The forest that gave us shelter, songs, and life is gone.”

The firefly nodded slowly, its tiny head bowing with sorrow. “Humans have become the enemies of the Earth. Day by day, they are destroying it. Forests are being cut, climates are changing, and destruction spreads everywhere. Wildlife suffers along with humans, yet people hardly notice.”

The nightingale sighed deeply. “All my companions have already left this place. Tomorrow, I too will have to leave. I feel so alone now, and the silence of this empty land is unbearable.”

Both fell silent, gazing at the clouds on the horizon where the last golden rays of sunlight still lingered. The wind whispered softly through the barren branches, carrying the faint scent of earth and leaves. Then the firefly spoke gently, “The situation is indeed grim, but we must not lose hope. There are still humans who understand this destruction and try to stop it. Especially children—they love trees and plants, and their hearts still cherish nature.”

The nightingale tilted its head and said, “Yes, you are right. Our survival depends on the new generation of humans. Perhaps they will restore what has been lost and protect our homes in the future.”

Silence returned, heavier this time. As darkness deepened, the firefly flew away, casting its faint, comforting light in a small circle around the nightingale. The nightingale tucked its beak under its wings and closed its eyes, hiding in the shadows. Though sorrow weighed on it heavily, a tiny flicker of hope remained—hope that somewhere, humans still cared, and that the forests might one day sing again.humans still cared, and that the forests might one day sing again.