Leavened

| Chapter 1 |

At first, there was a hush, a hush so tangible and obvious that no one could hold it firmly and feel it burn deep. It lasted for almost half a minute,the silence, then I proceeded into the pastel painted museum. Although, the odd pastel paints had eluded me but the sudden elopement within the museum sections had revoked such feelings I had.

The small sections, simply divided by short wooden barricades and grey walls, were filled with many different experiences - historical mystery, battalions covered with grey dusts and red particles spread at each corner. In the spirit of enthusiasm, I gathered some of it on my fingers. I stared at it, suddenly feeling the wave of nausea around me and a bulge below my abdomen. Either I did it consciously or not, I clasped my fingers unto my belly. With the hands still clutched to my belly, my hands fell on the position where my hands sat. I knew there was something required of me to do but the uncomfortable atmosphere that eloped me - a hunch, i thought.

As soon as I stepped my feet into another section - a room it looked like - I felt the feeling again. Indeed, there was great fear erupting in me. In hurrid moments like this, I had always trusted my guts, and most often than not, it was true. As I checked out with my Identity Card and tally number card, I spotted a bright yellow bird. Its cage was just by the Norweagian middle-aged bespectacled woman's chair. I slipped my eyes from the left where the bird,calmly and weakly chirped to the middle where the pink-faced Ms. Quince sat, scribbling away all of my essentials. After asking the last question from the me, she looked below her table. A minute, or so it seemed, was what it took her to be relaxed back into the chair. But whilst she was searching for the pink eco-friendly piece of A4 paper for general reviews and suggestions, I was busy wondering about the sudden introduction of birds and animals generally, because earlier behind the shelves, I had seen a few rats.

"Ms. Hamid, could you kindly assent your signature here?" She tapped the column in which I was to sign in with a pen. I couldn't but feel a nauseating feeling. My signature, scribbled so fast because it was merely nothing but a dignified spelling of my last name and a little details here and there.

"Thank you. We hope to see you again pretty soon. And oh, our college undergraduates retreat is coming up next month. I'm sure you'd be there, and with your friends," she said, in a cocky yet swanky tone that seemed so fake to be hers.

"Yes, sure. I'll be there," I replied. And although, I was done with my research for biochemistry class presentation, I only longed for the daring truth about the long-beaked bird.