The Blue Dove

2021 Write Now Winner - Grades 9-12

One of the first things he learned was that creativity in all forms was illegal.

Writing, drawing, music of any kind...

It was too bad he was never much of a rule follower.

Sitting on a rotting wooden bench (which was very hard to come by, since wood was reserved for the elites) he ran his finger lightly across the cracked, yellowed piano keys. A thick layer of dust coated the illegal instrument, flying up into the air as he disturbed it’s resting place. Specks of the dust hovered in front of his face, made visible by the sunlight shafting in through a nearby window.

The musician wondered who had last played this piano, what their story was. Perhaps they had grown up playing it and had cultivated skills that impressed anyone they played for. He felt a pang of jealousy for the previous owner- even if their instrument was eventually taken away, at least they got to grow up playing whenever they wanted.

Closing his eyes, the musician pressed his fingers down on the keys. He had spent his whole life secretly studying musical theory, but nothing could prepare him for the first sound he would hear from his very own piano. It was a bit clunky and obviously out of tune, but he didn't care. This was actually happening.

He was about to try another chord when he heard a noise outside of his window. Panic clouded his mind as he grabbed a tarp and threw it over his piano. What if the government knew he was harboring contraband? What if they were coming to take him away?

To his relief, it was just a little bird, beating its wings against the windowpane. Letting out a sigh, he was about to continue practicing when he realized something.

One of the other things he learned as a child was that animals no longer existed.

They were gone, wiped out, last seen hundreds of years ago.

So how was an animal flying outside of his house?

Stupefied, the musician covered up his instrument once again and stumbled outside of his house, slamming the door behind him. Upon noticing him, the bird swooped down and hovered in front of his face. He knew in the back of his mind what kind of bird it was from studying extinct creatures as a kid- a dove, symbol of peace. It's body shape was very distinct, a dead giveaway to its species.

The one flying in front of him now had a light blue body, with yellow wings and tail feathers. Something bothered him about the coloring, but he didn't think much of it. A real animal! Was it possible that they weren't really extinct, just living in hiding from the humans? Perhaps this one had gotten lost. Barely noticing his surroundings, he began to follow the little creature. His vision tunneled around the dove, a mantra beginning in his head telling him don't look away. Don't let it escape.

The world around him seemed to fade. He barely noticed the banks of artificial snow he stumbled past, the rows of identical metal mailboxes. People stepped out of their houses to stare at him, but they didn't join him in following the dove. He didn't care. An animal. A real animal, and he was the one to find it! For a second he wondered what the government would do if they knew there were still living creatures on earth besides humans.

Would they try to preserve it, put it in a zoo?

Or would they kill it, since it disrupted their normal order of things?

The musician found himself wanting to protect the bird from them. Maybe he could put it in his house with the piano... after all, what's one more illegal item? If the government searched his house for whatever reason, he was already as good as dead.

The dove continued on, staying relatively low to the ground and right in front of the musician. Did birds always fly like this? He didn't care. Slowly, he reached his hand out to grab it, but it flitted ahead of his grasp. He began waving his arms around wildly, attempting to capture the little animal, but it stayed stubbornly out of his grip.

Something was niggling at the back of the musician's mind, telling him something was wrong, but he ignored it. This was a once in a lifetime experience, he didn't have time to listen to his inner voice of reason.

Now the bird was flying into an old, abandoned looking warehouse. With hardly a second thought, the musician followed it. The stench of blood and metal hung heavily inside of the building, and the walls were rusted and stained.

The musician realized with a start that he had no idea where he was.

Perhaps even more disturbing, he realized what had been bothering him earlier.

Since when were doves blue?

As if being plunged into ice cold water, he was brought back to reality. He whipped around and frantically searched for the entrance he had come in to just seconds earlier, but it was nowhere to be found. As far as he could see there was nothing but a rusted metal wall.

The bird fell to the ground with a mechanical clash, cogs and little bits of machinery exploding from its limp, fallen body.

At the same time, a deep, commanding voice came from the back of the dark warehouse.

"You are under arrest for the possession of an illegal instrument. Please put your hands up."