Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra






Saving Private Raven

Saving Private Raven

4 mins 25K 4 mins 25K

On a dusky evening of an early fall... Me and my consort were walking towards the door of knowledge. We were waiting for our superior Blokes to get relinquished from the doors of the goddess of wisdom. Meanwhile we decided to explore the meadow.

There was a Fathom wide antiquated canal along which the dark liquid of terror flows. The entire city’s filth flow through that conduit which was hundreds of leagues tall in measurement.

A tiny loner grey cloud was hovering above us like it was ready for some mischief. A little spark in the cloud was noticed by my blurry eyes. Suddenly an object starts descending with a horrendous gait. It was not clear what it was because it was carrying a forth of mist around it.

The entity fell into the furrow with a burly ponderous splash a horse-length away from us. We ran to the vantage point with angst building up my heart.

I saw dough of tar formed around it moving very slowly with a stumpy fluid. With a jitter, a pair of pinion emerged from the marsh. Then I heard a loud croak.

It was a Raven. I gazed up on the sky. The little cloud flew away rumbling like an urchin runs away chuckling after a misdemeanor. In this short period of time the raven had been taken forward by the current.

My acquaintance came with a stick to stop the rook from going further away. He stopped it along the farther side of the canal wall. The tar is still drowning the raven so I ran to the nearest oak tree. I jump on one of its branches and tore a cudgel from it. I made a hook out of it and came back to assist my colleague. We were finally able to educe the raven from the kill zone but it was still in the jaws of death and I was stuck.

No thought was passing through my anxious mind. The only thought which prevails in existence was about successfully saving the Raven. Thoughts do not save, action do and there I was without action and strategy.

Then a voice shattered my panic. “Let me handle the sticks” said my ambidextrous partner. The voice was so confident that without any thought I hypnotically relinquish my control to the unknown. I carefully switch my position and let the gent do the job. As He held the equipment of salvation, it was just a matter of seconds as he lifts the creature from the fatal current. The bird was palpitating as if holding its life in its abrupt quiver. He gently puts the critical raven on the soft green bed of grass in the alp.

I leaped vertically in overwhelming joy, and why not I’d saved a life of a mortal being. But after couple of jumps I regain my solicitous stagnancy. “why isn’t it moving? What happened’s not dead is it?” I asked in clutter. He prompts me to keep my calm “Wait, I don’t know...” and then he lifted the stem with the thickest base and threw the other. He turns the filthy fowl emitting slug and grabbed its beak open. Then he gently starts pushing and brushing the stick over its breast. SNAP! It came back to life with a loud squeal.

I quickly draw my pearly white handkerchief and wrapped the little thing in it. We took it to the monastery of Knowledge on the apex of the hill. On its crown Surya shined at its best even at the Dusk. We put the raven we just saved on the rostrum and my friend brings a bowl of water for it to drink. The rays of pure Helios burnt the slug and formed a thin membrane of harden mud around the bird.

The raven slide towards the saucer and commence drinking the liquid of life. A new life begun to explode in the creature, suddenly with a shimmer it break though the film of clay. Throwing away the shattered pieces of mud, its wings shone in the embellishment of the sun. fhurr furr... and up it goes.

The much obliged raven encircles us twice in its thankful debt for saving its life. And then another soldier of life, the privet Raven flew into the evening sky and disappeared in the dusk.

The raven relinquished some of his black feathers as a souvenir to us. The feathers of grace. My friend took one and gave me the rest. I patted on his shoulder in overwhelming awe.

As the CANW CANW of the rook perished in our ears we entered the gates of knowledge with the everlasting memory of SAVING PRIVATE RAVEN.

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