Grey Flamingos

Imprints followed the flamingo as she walked along the ashen coast. Hungry, away from her flock, the bird picked through the dust, finding a lone insect when lucky. Throughout her search, she had been oblivious to the crocodile. He was a few feet away, his two eyes raised above the murky water, stalking and waiting. No such threat could perturb the flamingo as she found a live cockroach deep beneath the soot. She sucked it in along with a heap of the flaky earth, hardly successful at filtering out the smut. She gave out a cough, but her stomach was less empty.

Another step – her webbed feet like snowshoes – another inquisitive dip of the bill. Luck grew harder to come by. As she got closer to the water, she had to sink her head deeper. She knew the risk, but needed another bite. Along the edge, her head dipped in the water intermittently. Perhaps a dead fish would appear. Her face became more pink with every dip. The crocodile, well within reach, still waited. His eyes appeared closer to her and she noticed them. Not entirely deterred, she ventured slightly more inland to continue her search. The batches of dust became larger and more difficult to filter. Nonetheless, she continued. The pink was gone – her head deep beneath the dry snow. With her long neck fully stretched downward, the crocodile found it the perfect moment to strike. He hurled himself onto the land, only to fall through a mound of ash. A cloud of dust engulfed him and emitted shrapnel. Startled by the commotion, the flamingo shook her head up from underneath and hastily took off in flight.

Like a straight arrow, she flew over the grey landscape. There were no trees – only the occasional stump and rocks – the occasional mountain, stream – the occasional hole in the earth.

Through the grey, the flamingo could faintly detect her flock from afar. There was a time when there were thousands of them; now only a few dozen remained. One of the gangly males faced her as she approached. He called to her, with their egg nestled safely beneath him. He could read the futility of her journey in her languid flight. Despite the failure, she was happy to see her mate still there, with their egg intact. Few had lasted long enough to hatch; many had been lost among the flock.

Immediately upon descending, she put her bill to her mate’s. They caressed as such when they were together. Only a cough would periodically break their embrace. Fear, uncertainty – none could overtake them in those moments. Food, the fate of their young – not a concern.

Their feet now began to patter about in a circle around their egg. Bill to bill, they slowly continued this motion. They felt each other’s symphony, both leading each other in dance. The serene rhythm steadily picked up. In harmony, in full swing, they started twitching their heads from side to side. Between each turn of the head, the mother caught her mate doing the same motion. To her left, she could see part of the flock. To her right, she noticed some flying away. To her left, they all turned to face her. To her right, they were all gone.

She stopped dancing. Her mate was no longer before her. She turned in all directions until her eyes caught the whirlwind of smoke. Deep in the dust, coiled by an anaconda, there he was. She flew towards the snake, picking up momentum to pack a good peck with her bill. No use. The impact bent her bill and contorted her neck. Sensing her partner lifeless, she abandoned the scene and rushed back to her egg, only to find nothing where it had been. With her damaged neck, she flew unevenly around the site, scanning the area. Nothing. The rest of the flock had flown away. Perhaps they had taken the egg with them. She could not see where they had gone. Her neck drooped down uncontrollably. She tried to pick it back up to better guide her flight, but it mostly trailed beneath her. Uncertain which direction to fly towards, she began to flap her wings and tried her best to remain in the air. As she did so, she noticed a second snake who was sliding away from the scene below, a small lump making its way through its body.

Before long, she thought she could faintly see her flock, a long distance away. But now she was unable to keep her head up at all and hit a solid structure, falling flat on the dusty ground. Unable to lift herself up, she breathed in the ash, with a shorter breath after every inhale. The last thing she saw were two clothed creatures, violently bursting out of the structure, and wrestling in the dust. They were fighting over a heart-shaped locket.