The Bird and the Cage

A short story describing what it is like to be deaf.

The sparrow is trapped. It ruffles its feathers once more before fluttering its wings and slamming its delicate little body against the cold iron bars of the cage. It's scared. Fear pulses through its veins. It knows it can't give up now. Once again, the sparrow takes to the air and smashes its body against the cage in one last act of desperation before falling to the bottom again. The iron bars are almost mocking, cruel and taunting. To the sparrow's right is a windowsill with open windows to a beautiful little, green garden, leading him to his freedom. It chirrups and calls out in the hope that other nearby sparrows will hear it and help. When they don't come, the sparrow's weakening and already dying hope sputters out with no trace of it left behind.

 

My mind is free. In my mind, I can travel to wherever I wish. I could travel to Kowloon in Hong Kong and walk through the Ladies' Market or watch the traditional Lion Dances with my grandpa; I could choose to go to Lake Bled in Slovenija and hike my way through the forests and mountains; or perhaps even Lake Garda in Italy and stroll through its ancient and cobbled streets. I can create lands for myself that no one else can visit. They're mine and mine only. In my lands I'm whoever I want to be. I could be the king, the queen, the prince, the princess or even a small street urchin. There is no sound in my world. Sound is lost and facial expressions are meaningless. Here, I'm not the odd one out nor am I misunderstood as I normally am.

 

The silence traps me. Engulfs me. Suffocates me. It has no form or any shape but somehow holds me back. It blocks out sounds and stops me from being the person I truly am. It is my iron cage. No matter how much I try to fight it, I always fail. The silence is stronger than me and will always beat me. It has even shaped me into the person I am after all these years of fighting. It is almost as if it is a judo match and the silence is my uke. Somehow, my uke always manages to put me into a painful arm lock or a deadly choke hold, scoring ippon in the end and winning the match. I walk away, the loser, with shame and humiliation burning my cheeks.

 

The iron cage protects the nimble sparrow from his predators. The iron bars are too close together for the predators' claws and fingers to get through and harm the little sparrow. Nevertheless, it is terrified, fearing for its life and desperately trying to fly away as the cage is shaken by its hungry and ravenous predators. The sparrow tries to fly away, pressing its body against the iron bars at the other side of the cage as far away from its snarling predator.

 

The silence can sometimes be my ally, my protector and saviour. It can act as a shell and deflect the insults hurled at me in the playground from cruel and taunting classmates. They quietly shout at me, their voices distorted and muffled. I can do nothing but hang my head in shame and bear the insults. At this point, I feel nothing but loneliness and sadness as yet again, what's left of my confidence that was built through judo has been shattered and torn apart. Other people in the playground take no notice, excluding me from their activities and leaving me vulnerable to the bullies. They're either too afraid to interfere and stop the bullying or I mean nothing to them. To them, I'm just another kid, the victim of bullies. The blunt of my classmates' anger. The outcast. The reject. I feel agonisingly lonely, left without a group of friends and people I can trust. Who can I turn to in rough times? Who can I trust? Who can understand me? It’s depressing to watch other people laugh with their friends without a care in the world. The silence cannot protect me from loneliness or from the tears that run down my face.

 

When his predators have at last given up in their search for food, the sparrow begins to look for weaknesses in the iron cage. He knows that it is not worth smashing himself onto the iron bars. He will only achieve bruising his body instead. He gazes at the cage door and realises that he has some luck left. His captor has left the latch unlocked! The tiny dead flame of hope roars to life inside the sparrow at seeing the unlocked cage door. Freedom is just inches away from where the sparrow is standing. The sparrow c***s his head to one side and chirrups. He makes a few hopping steps across the bottom of the cage, gazing at the unlocked door. He quickly glances around the room, his beady black eyes scanning for any signs of predators. When he realises that it is safe, he takes to the air again, this time smashing his body against the cage door. He finds that the cage door is surprisingly less heavy than he thought that it would be to move. The sparrow is cautious in leaving the cage. He glances sideways to see if his captor is there. The door to the room suddenly bursts open and the sparrow's captor rushes inside. He lets out a yell and charges forward, trying to capture the little sparrow once more. But the sparrow is too quick for the man's grasp and easily dodges his swipes. The sparrow darts through the window and out into the open where he is finally free of his captor's grip.

 

Like me, the silence has its own weaknesses. The silence cannot forever keep me inside a prison because it will never find a way to beat technology. I have these two marvellous little switches by each of my ears. They are the only miracles that can beat the silence to it. The silence is afraid of these switches, very afraid. The switches have two settings: "on" and "off". When the switches are set to "on", the silence is kept at bay and is left cowering in a corner. When they are set to "off", I am more vulnerable to the silence and am once again, back in my iron cage which is almost impossible to escape. I get up each morning in this prison, but shortly afterwards my switches snatch me from the iron cage's grasp. I switch them to "on" and once again the sound comes rushing towards me, and the silence cowers away. I'm free from my cage.

 

I am free.