Twitter Hall

I tried to write a short illustration of what happens on Twitter using Whizy, Teman and Blaze as major characters. They are birds, mind you and they tweet constantly. I hope you'll read it and give me your thoughts.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining outside. Whizy and Teman were perched on the window sill of the large Twitter hall, and because they were the earliest students to enrol, they were able to secure the choicest sill in the hall. It was located right in the corner, so they did not need to crane their necks. They had a bird’s eye view of everything that was going on.

 

An interesting variety of plummage was displayed across various ends of the hall. Birds of the same feather flocked together. And there was the constant din. Raucous laughter pierced the air ever so often. A tiny bird lay in the corner. She tethered on death’s door, after an episode of rolling on the floor. With eyes wide open, she struggled to remember the joke.

Beaks moved incessantly. Blaze, a Malabar grey hornbill who was across the hall was holding a discussion about why he would miss Amy Winehouse. Someone asked for the name of any of her hit songs. There was silence. His big ever friendly friend; Google helped fill in the blank.  “A dull fan is a famz”, somebody said. He was called a hater.

Blaze, eager to keep the conversation going continued by saying that the living must go on and introduced the subject of his new I-pad. This bit of news was re-echoed by his winged friends. Prayers of thanksgiving laced with personal supplication were added along the way. One of them claimed he didn’t believe the story. A picture materialized quickly. The nay-sayer  was quick to conclude that thousands of such pictures could be obtained from the library of Blaze’s altruistic friend. He was called a hater.

Whizy who was listening to Blaze, whispered  to Teman that he wished the result of the US visa lottery would come out in his favour. That he wanted to quit college in Nigeria, fly over and take up music as a profession. Whizy said one of his mentors didn’t go to college but was rolling in $. Anything Whizy said was shortened. Teman only laughed. Coarse, fitful laughing. Teman tried to say something meaningful but couldn’t and so he just kept laughing and rolling on the floor. Whizy hissed and called him a hater.

From the corner of his eye, Whizy sighted a lone figure at the far end of the hall. Her feather pattern was one he rarely saw. A few birds passed by her and when they couldn’t spot the expected hues, they moved on and refused to sit with her. Her beak was pursed, opened only occasionally. Her eyes roamed the hall taking in the sights and sounds.

Whizy thought she might make a good friend. He flew over and caught her in a moment of silence.

‘You look out of place, beautiful one, what are you doing?

‘Thinking’, she replied.

 ‘Don’t think, Whizy said, just tweet’.