Curiosity killed The Man

Outside the Innercity cafe, five kids were squatting down on the sidewalk, huddled around, bantering over a bird they had amongst them. The streets on Sunday morning were not busy. The cafes, shops, and few dining places were already open at the earliest times of the day, and a handful of people were going back home from the house of prayers that opened before a crack of dawn. On the side of the road, the kids would often quiet down, and listen to one of them talk, then break into a heated disagreement. The individual strolling by couldn't understand what they were saying and walked past them, slightly agitated that the children were impolite for their morning sensitive ears.

After prayers were over and the people have long cleared the temple, the Shike locks the doors and leaves to join his family for Sunday coffee. He thought of picking up bread on the way home and made his way to one of the two bakeries in town. On the street, men and women who saw him halted briefly and bowed to offer their appreciation to the godly man and his free services in the small town, and in return, the Shike acknowledged them with a head gesture. Upon arriving at the bakery, the Shike couldn’t help but curiously glance at the children across the road, unpalatably discussing something amongst them, surrounding what he noticed was a big bird. The children were no more than six or seven, he was sure of that, and after watching them for a short moment, he entered the bakery shop.

There, he smiled at the baker's daughter, whom he knew as he came there frequently, and when she saw him, she immediately went around the wooden counter to kiss the back of his hand. The youth must kiss the hand of an elderly or a Shike for a blessing, so he blessed her. "May your heart be pure, and the children you bore be willing to submit to your will."

"Ameen," she mumbled in Loxen (it implied 'So be it') and made her way back to assist him.

"Just four bread, child." The Shike said, pulling out a small pocket made out of leather to hand her a couple of silver Yesos.

While the young girl with long, dark brown hair wrapped the braids in earthly brown paper, her father emerged out of a small door that made a way to the kitchen with more freshly baked bread. As soon as he saw the Shike, he too put the bushel load of bread on the floor and immediately came to kiss the hand of the faith leader. The Shike gave him the back of his right hand and blessed him as well.

Once he paid, the girl smiled politely and handed him the four circular warm bread, a sweet and yeasty aroma that overwhelmed the shop and flooded out onto the street. The Shike said a blessing to their day and made his way out. Then three men made their way into the bakery when he opened the door. The Shike perceived that the men were the castle's guard by their army attire and grimaced; however, they barely acknowledged who he was and quietly marched past him into the shop as he made an exist.

To his dismay, the kids were still where he saw them previously, contending, and felt upset when he heard one of the kids cuss without holding back. After checking his left and right for any impending horse riders, he crossed the vacant cobblestone road and approached the little boys who failed to notice his presence just like the castle's guard. After reaching their side, he observed them for a moment; his face perplexed seeing the brown barn owl tamed between them. The little creature had a white heart-shaped face and white chest with small brown spots. The back was orangey-brown, marked with black and white spots. It had strong grasping talons that could undoubtedly kill prey and a hooked upper beak to tear off meat.

"Children, what is all this banter?" He asks, bringing the argument to die down. At his words, they looked up at once and stared, yet not even one of them hurried along to kiss his hand. The man thought this generation had not learned manners, which outraged him and convinced him that perhaps the end times are upon them.

"Shike," one of the kids with blue eyes and curly dark hair said, getting the owl and placing him on his arm cautiously. "We found a barn owl. It's a rare kind. People say an owl is a wise animal…."

"and those who own one are wise themselves…" said another brown-eyed boy with a small face, "but only one must own him. One that is in need of a wise owl the most—"

"So we came upon with a game," the chocolate-skinned boy with gray eyes cut in.

"And what is the game?" The Shike asked warily.

"That whoever tells the greatest lie wins the wise barn owl, for he needs the creature to tell from right and wrong and learn a great lesson that is to lie no more," another one with curly hair and olive skin spoke.

The Shike looked taken back for a moment before he shook his head disappointedly. Then, calmly he said: "Now, listen, young ones…when I was your age, I didn't know what a lie meant, let alone tell one."

The boys looked at each other, taken back, exchanging a thought he couldn't read a moment before they nodded their heads. At last, an agreement crossing their expression, the blue-eyed holding the owl on his left arm got up, shoulders slumped, and with a sigh of disappointment shoving the barn owl to his embrace. "Here, Shike...you've won."

The Shike held the barn owl, so it didn't fall and looked at them with surprise as they all rose. "Let's go," said the brown boy solemnly.

The Shike gaped at them in disbelief, mouth open to say something but lost for words. "Now wait a moment, boys—"

"Congratulations, Shike," said another blond-haired boy who had been quiet the entire time following the rest of the boys.

"Yeah, take care of the wise owl, will you?" said the blond boy.

Thus the poor man was left unable to make an argument for himself, genuinely baffled by the undisputed claim that the kids made against him, and watched them go with the barn owl on one arm and warm bread on his other.