When the birds stopped chirping

11. Unbreakable Ties

Days passed and slowly the world I used to know, yesterday Promised Land of the destitute, started to wither before my eyes. The city of all dreams had transformed into a terrifying dystopia where the strongest ruled as kings and the sheep were forced to submit. I found peace amidst the chaos as I studied art under John's protection for the time being.  Sadly, I had no communication with the outside world other than the news broadcasted on Channel One. I learned that the war was raging inside the city's walls between the followers of the party and the remaining Dreamers. Some feared that it would give the start to a second civilian riot after the events of eighteen years ago whereas others stated that society was slowly changing. But forces were unequal.
"This incident has revealed to me that in the end we are condemned to live in a never-changing world. That's a really depressing thought to realise we haven't learnt from the mistakes of our ancestors. Us the young generation are supposed to build the future of humanity, but what kind of future will lead us on the path to a better world if we can't fully express ourselves in our careers?" My pencil tripped on the paper. Stupefied I looked up at the TV's screen. My heart skipped a beat when I recognised her. She was courageous to speak her mind in front of the camera. Her irises burned green, drilled on the journalist who interviewed her. Her golden mane shimmered in the light of the falling sun. I thought for a second she risked her life by disavowing publicly the regime so vehemently. To the reporter's question about her opinion of the Dreamers, she did not respond directly. She stared in the vague when she continued talking, her fingers clenched on the handle of her school bag: "Idealists who dwell with their utopian beliefs they are to me. If they had wings, they would roam the skies or burn it to the sun questing for another world. The truth is, a better world does not exist as long as there aren't people resolved to make it change. They might argue that citizens should not lose hope in the coming of happier times, or even launch the assault head-on against the party, their dreams will inevitably be crushed by the Black Crows' weaponry."
I had never felt so alone when I stood up from my seat. Even my friends did not acknowledge me as the one I truly was, or the one I wanted to become. Strangely Yoko's name came to my mind when I thought about these misunderstood artists who never got to walk in the light. I remembered her radiant smile on the camera, her effortless brush, her marvellous masterpieces of few strokes.
- Focus on your study; your lines look shaky where your pencil hits the paper with anxiety, John commented on my work. Newly born artists often lack of self-confidence, which they acquire with practice. Keep on training. Put aside your daily concerns for a while to concentrate on your subject. Without tenacity and consistency, you'll never get there.
- I can't, I whispered.
- There is only one way to improve Kim.
- I know.

Friday came surprisingly fast. I asked for permission to go visit my family. I had not seen my siblings in a while since the attack of Skyfall Hill on that fateful night one month ago.
The shop was closed shut when I took halt before the frontage. Plywood planks condemned the windows.  Someone had sealed the door with a banner "Closing-down sale" printed in wide characters. I made the bells ring out for a handful of seconds. No one came. Worried, I tore the announcement apart and stuffed my keys in the lock. I entered in what used to be my family's antique boutique. The light bulbs flickered when I turned the meter on. Objects and artworks had been left untouched as if the owners had to run away in a hurry. I wondered what happened. Did the police interrogate them because of my deeds? Had the shop been searched in their absence? Did the tax authorities order the store's legal closure for an indefinite period of time? A cloud of dust sprouted out from the carpet when I stepped forward towards the stairs. A nasty smell of rotten food emanated from the kitchen. "They have been charged for gang trafficking of antique goods and illegal practice of trade. They left a while ago."
Startled, I turned around. An old woman in ragged clothes stood in the entryway. She wore a worn out shawl over a misshapen discoloured dress. Her whitish-brown hair was twisted in a loose braid. Rosetta Fisher: some loony bird living in the neighbourhood for as long as I could remember. She had an insane interest in everyone's activities around the vicinity. She spread gossips like the pox to whom would listen to her ramblings. One would tell her to go away and mind her own business. I needed her to tell me about latest affairs in the district. "Clueless what has happened of them ever since." We stared at each other in silence then she stepped forth the threshold:
- You better go, they will come back to investigate.
- Who? I asked curtly.
- Them, the birds of calamity.
My heart skipped a beat. Sooner or later, it would happen. Knowing Ludovic and Anceline at the hands of the Black Crows gave me the creeps. I shuddered, shaken by the news of their disappearance. "It's been a week already." Guiltiness stabbed me in the chest like a whetted knife to the sharpest. " That sicko acted strange all the while." Rosetta commented. "What do you mean by strangely acting?" I inquired. "Don't know, just my intuition." Her dilated pupils shot glance at me. She raised a finger to her mouth: "There is a secret she does not want anyone to know, her fighters, and even her incompetent idiot of husband. Buried deep down in the memories of sorrowful days." Despite her reputation of ever-unsatisfied busybody, Rosetta had surprisingly a quite good knowledge of human psychology from years of eavesdropping. One had to admit she was an acute judge of character. She was a nosy so and so but hit right on the spot sometimes. Her wobbling irises shined faintly in the weakening lights:
- You better go Kim.