| The Creeper and the Wall by Jeng Duclayan |
I circled high overhead, drifting with the wind. A downdraft carried me on a semi-
spiral and I sailed right along with it, concerned with nothing but the rolling clouds
that gathered several miles away. Dark and heavy, their approach was like the
slow marching of a huge army in the distance. I knew that the night would not be
very comfortable, but since at the moment the clouds did nothing but loom, I
flapped my wings several times and thought only of this night’s dinner.
I landed upon a tree’s trunk, digging my toes deeply into the soft bark and
steadying myself with my tail. I turned my head this way and that, peering into
the holes of the tree’s skin, and dug my way into it with my thin, sharp beak.
There were insects galore within the first hole I explored and I fed eagerly. My
tongue drew out one wriggling insect after another. A spider peeked out at me
from behind a tree branch, and I trotted along merrily, pouncing at it before it
could slide down its long web to the ground. It was a satisfyingly fat and juicy
spider.
spiral and I sailed right along with it, concerned with nothing but the rolling clouds
that gathered several miles away. Dark and heavy, their approach was like the
slow marching of a huge army in the distance. I knew that the night would not be
very comfortable, but since at the moment the clouds did nothing but loom, I
flapped my wings several times and thought only of this night’s dinner.
I landed upon a tree’s trunk, digging my toes deeply into the soft bark and
steadying myself with my tail. I turned my head this way and that, peering into
the holes of the tree’s skin, and dug my way into it with my thin, sharp beak.
There were insects galore within the first hole I explored and I fed eagerly. My
tongue drew out one wriggling insect after another. A spider peeked out at me
from behind a tree branch, and I trotted along merrily, pouncing at it before it
could slide down its long web to the ground. It was a satisfyingly fat and juicy
spider.
Sated, I perched upon a branch and chirruped.
Though the storm came nearer, it was still a good day
for me. Other birds do nothing but complain, croaking
loudly with their hideous beaks – very unmusical, I
always observed. I was no virtuoso, but there are
moments when it does me good to sing. I always hide
back among the branches when I do – like I said, I
was no virtuoso. So I sang merrily, singing about
nothing in particular – I was never very profound. I
practiced my notes instead.
All of a sudden a wind whistled by, dragging my notes
away from me in a rapid movement, catching me
unawares and ruffling the impeccably-groomed
feathers on my head. Irritated, I looked around, and
Though the storm came nearer, it was still a good day
for me. Other birds do nothing but complain, croaking
loudly with their hideous beaks – very unmusical, I
always observed. I was no virtuoso, but there are
moments when it does me good to sing. I always hide
back among the branches when I do – like I said, I
was no virtuoso. So I sang merrily, singing about
nothing in particular – I was never very profound. I
practiced my notes instead.
All of a sudden a wind whistled by, dragging my notes
away from me in a rapid movement, catching me
unawares and ruffling the impeccably-groomed
feathers on my head. Irritated, I looked around, and
saw the gust from the leaves it carried, and I hopped and flew to catch up with it.
I may have said that I wasn’t one to complain. But sometimes, I find it fit and
proper to nag.
I may have said that I wasn’t one to complain. But sometimes, I find it fit and
proper to nag.
It took me quite an effort to catch up with it. It moved very fast and circled so
many times, I wondered if it was chasing something. Finally though, I veered
sharply to the right, intercepted it, and I heard the last notes I sang – and which
the wind carried away – slam right into me. As soon as I landed on the carpeted
earth, I hopped along briskly, smoothing my feathers, shaking my wings, and
making sure that I was still all in one piece. Then I felt a cool caress upon my
head, smoothing down my ruffled feathers, and I looked warily as the gust of wind
rustled the dead leaves beside me.
“I am sorry for that. You should not have veered so sharply to the right.”
I ignored her melodious tone and preened my feathers.
many times, I wondered if it was chasing something. Finally though, I veered
sharply to the right, intercepted it, and I heard the last notes I sang – and which
the wind carried away – slam right into me. As soon as I landed on the carpeted
earth, I hopped along briskly, smoothing my feathers, shaking my wings, and
making sure that I was still all in one piece. Then I felt a cool caress upon my
head, smoothing down my ruffled feathers, and I looked warily as the gust of wind
rustled the dead leaves beside me.
“I am sorry for that. You should not have veered so sharply to the right.”
I ignored her melodious tone and preened my feathers.
“And I am also sorry for having
dragged your notes away from you.
It’s just that I liked your singing so
much.”
I turned my back on her and
preened my tail.
The Wind rustled the leaves around
me and circled. “The truth is,” she
said, “I was bringing your notes
along to someone that I know. He
is a single, solitary wall, rooted in
the ground in the middle of
nowhere. He’s not really a very
attractive wall, and I don’t think
dignified birds ever come to sing to
him. He’s really quite lonely. He
seems to be getting lonelier every
time I see him.”
I cocked a head to one side and
listened despite myself. A lonely
wall! I thought what an unhappy
existence it must be – not to have
the gift of flight and motion. I,
dragged your notes away from you.
It’s just that I liked your singing so
much.”
I turned my back on her and
preened my tail.
The Wind rustled the leaves around
me and circled. “The truth is,” she
said, “I was bringing your notes
along to someone that I know. He
is a single, solitary wall, rooted in
the ground in the middle of
nowhere. He’s not really a very
attractive wall, and I don’t think
dignified birds ever come to sing to
him. He’s really quite lonely. He
seems to be getting lonelier every
time I see him.”
I cocked a head to one side and
listened despite myself. A lonely
wall! I thought what an unhappy
existence it must be – not to have
the gift of flight and motion. I,
myself, could not sit still in one place for longer than two shakes of a cow’s head.
“So I thought that it would be nice if I could bring along your lovely voice to cheer
him up.”
“So I thought that it would be nice if I could bring along your lovely voice to cheer
him up.”
I glowered at the gust of wind, which receded from my grim face in a smooth
motion.
“Do you honestly think that notes could carry farther than a few feet? I wasn’t
singing so loudly to begin with.”
Abashed, the Wind said, “I didn’t think of that.”
“Did you honestly believe that it was polite to just breeze by like that and steal
someone else’s notes? Perhaps if you had asked nicely, I would have sung for
you.”
“Really?” the Wind said in an excited somersault. “Then come with me and sing!
Sing! Sing! Sing!”
motion.
“Do you honestly think that notes could carry farther than a few feet? I wasn’t
singing so loudly to begin with.”
Abashed, the Wind said, “I didn’t think of that.”
“Did you honestly believe that it was polite to just breeze by like that and steal
someone else’s notes? Perhaps if you had asked nicely, I would have sung for
you.”
“Really?” the Wind said in an excited somersault. “Then come with me and sing!
Sing! Sing! Sing!”
I shook my head. This was a
very exasperating wind.
Nonetheless, she picked up and
drifted off, and since I was
curious about this lonely wall
that she spoke off, I took off
after her.
And so it was that I met the
Wall. Like the Wind said, he
was not a very attractive wall.
He stood in the middle of
nowhere, with nothing around
him that would embellish his
character – if he had one. A
low, gray, and flat structure, he
jutted out from the ground like
a sore toe. He emitted waves
of intense sadness, and I felt a
compelling desire to stay as far
very exasperating wind.
Nonetheless, she picked up and
drifted off, and since I was
curious about this lonely wall
that she spoke off, I took off
after her.
And so it was that I met the
Wall. Like the Wind said, he
was not a very attractive wall.
He stood in the middle of
nowhere, with nothing around
him that would embellish his
character – if he had one. A
low, gray, and flat structure, he
jutted out from the ground like
a sore toe. He emitted waves
of intense sadness, and I felt a
compelling desire to stay as far
away from him as I could. From the way the ground around its base was bare of
grass when everywhere else was lush with it, I thought that I was not alone in my
instinctive aversion to the Wall. He just propped himself there, decaying slowly,
eternally, into dust.
grass when everywhere else was lush with it, I thought that I was not alone in my
instinctive aversion to the Wall. He just propped himself there, decaying slowly,
eternally, into dust.
I watched as the Wind
approached with her tactless
energy and threw herself with
abandon upon one side of the
Wall. From where I was
perched on a nearby tree, I
observed the Wall’s attention
focus slowly, reluctantly upon
his visitor.
“Hello, Wall!” the Wind cried,
turning and somersaulting and
twisting in what seemed like
one motion. Its energy was
unbelievable.
“Since you cannot move around
to explore, I have brought
music along for you!”
The Wall replied in the dullest
monotone, “Perhaps I am not
interested in music.”
“Of course you are interested in
music; rhythm is in everything
and everyone.”
“Do I look rhythmical to you?”
approached with her tactless
energy and threw herself with
abandon upon one side of the
Wall. From where I was
perched on a nearby tree, I
observed the Wall’s attention
focus slowly, reluctantly upon
his visitor.
“Hello, Wall!” the Wind cried,
turning and somersaulting and
twisting in what seemed like
one motion. Its energy was
unbelievable.
“Since you cannot move around
to explore, I have brought
music along for you!”
The Wall replied in the dullest
monotone, “Perhaps I am not
interested in music.”
“Of course you are interested in
music; rhythm is in everything
and everyone.”
“Do I look rhythmical to you?”
“No, you do not, which means that you need it more than ever.” The Wind laughed
and did a half-twist. “I am so clever to have thought of that!”
A huge gust of wind suddenly blew in from the east and I looked up to see that
storm clouds loomed on the horizon. A definite coolness permeated the air. The
Wind must have sensed it too, for she did a series of turns so complex that I could
hardly follow her. She flew off to the tops of the nearby trees, rustling their
topmost leaves, and finally disappeared from view. She left without even
introducing me to the Wall. That Wind was truly a silly little thing.
I looked down from my tree and watched the Wall. He stared at the ground for a
long time, not doing or saying anything. He was the most morose wall I have ever
seen.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. I flew down from my perch and landed upon the
ground before the Wall. I hopped three times, cocking my head to one side and
then to the other, peering back at the Wall’s indifferent expression.
“You are the music-maker that the Wind spoke of. I am sorry that she has taken
the trouble, but as you can see, I am not a very musical wall,” said the Wall.
I belted out a note, not troubling myself to reply.
“I am sure that if I were a musical wall, I could praise you appropriately for your
short song. But as I am not one, you must forgive my lack of praise.”
“What kind of a wall are you then?”
The Wall came close to what I perceived as a frown.
“I have thought much about that, and I think I am a perpetual wall. I will stand
here to the end of days, doing nothing and accomplishing nothing. I cannot move
around, I am not a beautiful wall, and now I know that I am not a musical wall. I
am just a plain wall.”
“What a boring existence you have!” I exclaimed, glad that I was not a plain wall.
“It is a sad reality. It is, however, true.”
“I am a plain bird as well,” I replied. “I have no fine golden or bright colors, and I
cannot sing an entire concerto. I can only sing my notes and short pieces.”
“What type of bird are you?” he asked.
“I am a creeper, a most insignificant bird. I am not as large as an eagle, nor as
musical as a lark. My kind is very numerous, and we are always seen flying
around everywhere, perching everywhere. To my knowledge, no creeper has ever
had any other color than the most drab of brown and gray and white. And though
sometimes we sing, we sing short pieces only. We are not concert birds, nor are
we birds born with physical beauty.”
and did a half-twist. “I am so clever to have thought of that!”
A huge gust of wind suddenly blew in from the east and I looked up to see that
storm clouds loomed on the horizon. A definite coolness permeated the air. The
Wind must have sensed it too, for she did a series of turns so complex that I could
hardly follow her. She flew off to the tops of the nearby trees, rustling their
topmost leaves, and finally disappeared from view. She left without even
introducing me to the Wall. That Wind was truly a silly little thing.
I looked down from my tree and watched the Wall. He stared at the ground for a
long time, not doing or saying anything. He was the most morose wall I have ever
seen.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. I flew down from my perch and landed upon the
ground before the Wall. I hopped three times, cocking my head to one side and
then to the other, peering back at the Wall’s indifferent expression.
“You are the music-maker that the Wind spoke of. I am sorry that she has taken
the trouble, but as you can see, I am not a very musical wall,” said the Wall.
I belted out a note, not troubling myself to reply.
“I am sure that if I were a musical wall, I could praise you appropriately for your
short song. But as I am not one, you must forgive my lack of praise.”
“What kind of a wall are you then?”
The Wall came close to what I perceived as a frown.
“I have thought much about that, and I think I am a perpetual wall. I will stand
here to the end of days, doing nothing and accomplishing nothing. I cannot move
around, I am not a beautiful wall, and now I know that I am not a musical wall. I
am just a plain wall.”
“What a boring existence you have!” I exclaimed, glad that I was not a plain wall.
“It is a sad reality. It is, however, true.”
“I am a plain bird as well,” I replied. “I have no fine golden or bright colors, and I
cannot sing an entire concerto. I can only sing my notes and short pieces.”
“What type of bird are you?” he asked.
“I am a creeper, a most insignificant bird. I am not as large as an eagle, nor as
musical as a lark. My kind is very numerous, and we are always seen flying
around everywhere, perching everywhere. To my knowledge, no creeper has ever
had any other color than the most drab of brown and gray and white. And though
sometimes we sing, we sing short pieces only. We are not concert birds, nor are
we birds born with physical beauty.”
“So you consider yourself an insignificant
bird. Have you ever wondered what it means
to be a bird such as yourself?”
“No.”
“You have never wondered about your nature,
or your purpose in being who and what you
are?”
“No, I have not.”
The Wall was skeptical.
“I have wondered about my nature for a long
time, and now I know that it is in my nature
to be unfailingly here.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued.
bird. Have you ever wondered what it means
to be a bird such as yourself?”
“No.”
“You have never wondered about your nature,
or your purpose in being who and what you
are?”
“No, I have not.”
The Wall was skeptical.
“I have wondered about my nature for a long
time, and now I know that it is in my nature
to be unfailingly here.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued.
“Yes,” the Wall answered, almost with a touch of conceit. “There is no help for it.”
Something about his answer troubled me, however, and I flew up and perched
atop the Wall, scratching and pecking at his coarse and weather-beaten surface.
“What are you doing?” the Wall asked in an unconcerned voice.
“Ah, but Wall, you are mistaken!” I cried. “You are crumbling slowly to dust. You
will not be here for all eternity; the world will live on long after you have gone.”
A tremendous shock coursed through my thin legs, emitted by this strange wall
upon which I perched. And because I was very small, the tremor knocked me
quite a bit off-balance. I chittered in complaint.
“But that cannot be!” the Wall cried.
“But it is so,” I contradicted him. I looked askance at the Wall. For a self-
confessed plain and boring wall, he bore the heaviest troubles on his crumbling
form. An intense pity moved me, and without thinking further, I began to sing.
It was the longest and loveliest song I have ever sung. I twittered through the
notes, danced through the half-notes, and gave the sweetest sadness to my last
straining tone. It was such a beautiful song that I felt tears welling in the corners
of my eyes.
After a long silence, the Wall spoke.
“That was the loveliest song I have ever heard. You are not an insignificant
creeper; you are truly a music-maker.”
I danced a trifle, quite pleased with myself. Then I landed on the ground before
the Wall.
“And you are mistaken in thinking that you are not a musical wall,” I returned.
“I seem to be mistaken about many things,” he noted.
A worm’s head burrowed up from the ground a few feet from me and I pounced
upon it.
“Would you mind singing that song for me again?” the Wall asked, after I finished
eating.
“I cannot do that,” I replied. “That song is over, and I could not recreate it even if
I wanted to, which I do not.”
“Oh!” the Wall exclaimed. “How very sad! Then how will the other birds know that
you are not an insignificant creeper but a most excellent music-maker?” He was
so intense that I hopped back a few paces. Even his questions were heavy.
He saw this, and I blushed. How very undignified! But his eyes conveyed the
notion that he cared nothing for how others regarded him, and instead waited
patiently for me to answer. This I did after an uncomfortable pause.
“Some birds may have an entire repertoire of music, but I do not. I told you, I am
not a concert bird. I do not sing to please others, and so others do not expect me
to perform for them. My music is entirely a process of free creation. When I am
moved, I sing. When I am not moved, I do not sing – or I practice my notes.”
Something about his answer troubled me, however, and I flew up and perched
atop the Wall, scratching and pecking at his coarse and weather-beaten surface.
“What are you doing?” the Wall asked in an unconcerned voice.
“Ah, but Wall, you are mistaken!” I cried. “You are crumbling slowly to dust. You
will not be here for all eternity; the world will live on long after you have gone.”
A tremendous shock coursed through my thin legs, emitted by this strange wall
upon which I perched. And because I was very small, the tremor knocked me
quite a bit off-balance. I chittered in complaint.
“But that cannot be!” the Wall cried.
“But it is so,” I contradicted him. I looked askance at the Wall. For a self-
confessed plain and boring wall, he bore the heaviest troubles on his crumbling
form. An intense pity moved me, and without thinking further, I began to sing.
It was the longest and loveliest song I have ever sung. I twittered through the
notes, danced through the half-notes, and gave the sweetest sadness to my last
straining tone. It was such a beautiful song that I felt tears welling in the corners
of my eyes.
After a long silence, the Wall spoke.
“That was the loveliest song I have ever heard. You are not an insignificant
creeper; you are truly a music-maker.”
I danced a trifle, quite pleased with myself. Then I landed on the ground before
the Wall.
“And you are mistaken in thinking that you are not a musical wall,” I returned.
“I seem to be mistaken about many things,” he noted.
A worm’s head burrowed up from the ground a few feet from me and I pounced
upon it.
“Would you mind singing that song for me again?” the Wall asked, after I finished
eating.
“I cannot do that,” I replied. “That song is over, and I could not recreate it even if
I wanted to, which I do not.”
“Oh!” the Wall exclaimed. “How very sad! Then how will the other birds know that
you are not an insignificant creeper but a most excellent music-maker?” He was
so intense that I hopped back a few paces. Even his questions were heavy.
He saw this, and I blushed. How very undignified! But his eyes conveyed the
notion that he cared nothing for how others regarded him, and instead waited
patiently for me to answer. This I did after an uncomfortable pause.
“Some birds may have an entire repertoire of music, but I do not. I told you, I am
not a concert bird. I do not sing to please others, and so others do not expect me
to perform for them. My music is entirely a process of free creation. When I am
moved, I sing. When I am not moved, I do not sing – or I practice my notes.”
“What was it that moved you then, to sing such a
lovely song?” the Wall asked.
“You did.”
“I did?”
“Your sadness did – for which I do not envy you. And
lovely song?” the Wall asked.
“You did.”
“I did?”
“Your sadness did – for which I do not envy you. And
because it was you that moved me, I sang that song for you. It was a song I
created especially for you.”
The Wall did not reply.
“Then you can say before you crumble completely into dust that you have been a
musical wall once, and that a plain creeper became a concert bird, and sang a
lovely song especially for you.”
After a short silence, the Wall spoke, “I was given over to believe that sadness is
beyond the comprehension of a Wall. A Wall, after all, is not human.”
“Then why are you sad? I suppose you could say that apart from being a plain and
boring Wall, you are also a sad Wall. There’s no shame in that. After all, without
it, I would not have had my short stint as a concert bird.”
“I was a beautiful wall once, too. I had a companion who turned out the loveliest
flowers, and he decked me year after year with loveliness. He is gone now.”
“Then you can say before you crumble completely into dust that you have been a
lovely wall, a sad wall, and a musical wall.” I chirped gladly. “What kind of wall
do you think you will be next?”
“I do not know. I haven’t thought about that. What about you? Do you become
an insignificant creeper now?”
“I already am an insignificant creeper. Look at me, I am so plain! Though…” I
paused, glancing at the dark clouds high overhead.
“… tonight I shall do my best to survive the coming onslaught of rain.”
“Is it going to rain tonight?” the Wall asked.
“Haven’t you seen the clouds overhead? I am pretty sure that our friend the Wind
is up there now, wreaking havoc with all her uncontrollable energy.”
The Wall looked up at the sky, and tears began to fill his eyes.
“What is the matter now?!” I demanded impatiently, hopping from one foot to
another.
“For a long time now, I have looked at nothing but the ground. It has been a long
time since I have seen the sky,” he said.
I hopped atop the Wall, and looked at the dark sky.
“I think I shall become a musical bird for you once more,” I quietly told the Wall.
Utmost pity welled deep in my throat, and I sang with abandon. It was even
better than my last song.
Tears fell freely from the Wall’s eyes now, as he cried. Then a drop fell upon my
head, and then another, and then another. The storm had arrived.
created especially for you.”
The Wall did not reply.
“Then you can say before you crumble completely into dust that you have been a
musical wall once, and that a plain creeper became a concert bird, and sang a
lovely song especially for you.”
After a short silence, the Wall spoke, “I was given over to believe that sadness is
beyond the comprehension of a Wall. A Wall, after all, is not human.”
“Then why are you sad? I suppose you could say that apart from being a plain and
boring Wall, you are also a sad Wall. There’s no shame in that. After all, without
it, I would not have had my short stint as a concert bird.”
“I was a beautiful wall once, too. I had a companion who turned out the loveliest
flowers, and he decked me year after year with loveliness. He is gone now.”
“Then you can say before you crumble completely into dust that you have been a
lovely wall, a sad wall, and a musical wall.” I chirped gladly. “What kind of wall
do you think you will be next?”
“I do not know. I haven’t thought about that. What about you? Do you become
an insignificant creeper now?”
“I already am an insignificant creeper. Look at me, I am so plain! Though…” I
paused, glancing at the dark clouds high overhead.
“… tonight I shall do my best to survive the coming onslaught of rain.”
“Is it going to rain tonight?” the Wall asked.
“Haven’t you seen the clouds overhead? I am pretty sure that our friend the Wind
is up there now, wreaking havoc with all her uncontrollable energy.”
The Wall looked up at the sky, and tears began to fill his eyes.
“What is the matter now?!” I demanded impatiently, hopping from one foot to
another.
“For a long time now, I have looked at nothing but the ground. It has been a long
time since I have seen the sky,” he said.
I hopped atop the Wall, and looked at the dark sky.
“I think I shall become a musical bird for you once more,” I quietly told the Wall.
Utmost pity welled deep in my throat, and I sang with abandon. It was even
better than my last song.
Tears fell freely from the Wall’s eyes now, as he cried. Then a drop fell upon my
head, and then another, and then another. The storm had arrived.
I called out a merry
goodbye to the Wall and I
flew as fast as my wings
could carry me – home to
my nest, snug in a tree
some distance away.
But the rain came too
quickly. Large drops fell
suddenly upon me,
soaking my wing feathers,
making flight almost
impossible. I was about to
goodbye to the Wall and I
flew as fast as my wings
could carry me – home to
my nest, snug in a tree
some distance away.
But the rain came too
quickly. Large drops fell
suddenly upon me,
soaking my wing feathers,
making flight almost
impossible. I was about to
take refuge in a nearby tree when a heavy gust of cold wind threw me, and I felt
myself being hurtled down to the ground. I landed with a very unceremonious
thump. My right wing was bent underneath me, I was stiff and sore, and my
entire body ached with pain. The rain came down harder and harder, and the
sound of it falling was like that of soldiers trampling everything in its path.
I turned my head and saw that I had fallen near the Wall; his dull, gray base was
behind me. Then he spoke once, in a very gentle voice.
“While you lived you may have been an insignificant creeper, but twice you
became a concert bird for me. You are not insignificant. Not to me. I am grateful
to have known you.”
I moved restlessly away from my debilitated state, drifting into darkness.
myself being hurtled down to the ground. I landed with a very unceremonious
thump. My right wing was bent underneath me, I was stiff and sore, and my
entire body ached with pain. The rain came down harder and harder, and the
sound of it falling was like that of soldiers trampling everything in its path.
I turned my head and saw that I had fallen near the Wall; his dull, gray base was
behind me. Then he spoke once, in a very gentle voice.
“While you lived you may have been an insignificant creeper, but twice you
became a concert bird for me. You are not insignificant. Not to me. I am grateful
to have known you.”
I moved restlessly away from my debilitated state, drifting into darkness.
