a little sister’s wisdom
Someone once told me that owls have ancient wisdom behind those big round eyes. If only we could decipher their calls we’d know all the secrets to the universe. I wish they’d communicate this ‘wisdom’ a little quieter because I’m a light sleeper.
It wasn’t a wise decision to go on this trip. Hindsight is 20/20, as they say. If I were an owl, I might have known better. I thought I could become someone I’m not for the week. But I’m ‘indoorsy’. Camping is not for me.
I’m standing on the front porch of the log cabin we’re staying in, looking up at the moon, peeking through the trees. I think it’s a waxing crescent, but I’m not sure. I was never an expert on such things.
There’s a creak from behind me and then a soft voice.
I turn around and lock eyes with Lily, who’s wearing my hand-me-down pajamas.
“I can’t sleep,” she whispers.
“Me neither,” I whisper back.
“They’re so noisy.”
“The owls?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re just talking to each other - kinda like us.”
“About what?”
“Ancient wisdom.”
“Can you understand what they’re saying?”
“No. Can you?”
“Yeah.”
When I ask her what they’re talking about she proceeds to hoot like an owl.
I laugh and roll my eyes at her.
“Can I have some?” She asks, pointing to the mug I’m holding.
“I guess,” I say and hand it over.
I know her well enough to know she’ll hate it.
She sips it and makes a face.
“Ew,” she says.
“You say that now, but when I’m asleep and you’re still here with the owls, you’ll wish you had this.”
“It makes you sleepy?”
“It’s supposed to.”
“I’m already sleepy, but I can’t sleep.”
“Same.”
There is a moment of silence before Lily speaks again.
“Do you want me to tell you a story?”
“About what?”
“What the owls are actually saying.”
She whispers, as if not to let the owls know that she’s aware of their secrets.
“Sure.”
We head back into the cabin and lie down in our sleeping bags, huddled close together.
In moments like these, I selfishly wish that I had an older sister, someone like me who I could tell stories to when I was 8. But then again I am grateful to have her all to myself, which might be a little selfish, too.
I feel stupid for being angry when my parents announced I’d be having a sister. I was a melodramatic mess in the months before I met her.
But now, I wouldn’t give her up for a million bucks or all the wisdom in the world.
Lying there in our sleeping bags, Lily starts telling me about the owls. I don’t remember what she said because I fell asleep about five minutes in.
Lily is one of the best storytellers I know, so I know wasn’t boring. Maybe she knew the magic words to make me fall asleep.
I bet that’s what the owls taught her.
Have You Seen Birds?
It’s one of those days as I walk the kids upstairs to get them ready for bed that I know it wasn’t my best as a parent. I was there, I just wasn’t present. And sometimes that’s worse.
Now, as they brush their teeth, laughing at some made-up language they’ve come up with, where every word needs to start with a C, I feel that old familiar hole in the pit of my stomach growing with guilt.
They finish with their teeth, get themselves all snug in their jammies, and we read books in my son’s room. My daughter picks a Pete the Cat story, which I’m sure I’ve read a hundred times, but she always smiles like it’s the first. So, I never say no.
She laughs when Pete says “groovy” and looks over at her brother and says “croovy.”
Then my son is next. He picks one called Have You Seen Birds? A book he’s borrowed from his school library. Last week, it was a deep dive into the lives of gulls, and this week it’s a whole plethora of other birds. Autumn birds, garden-summer birds, winter birds, spring birds, tall birds, town birds, woodland birds, you name it birds, they're all in there.
I’m reading along until I get to the night birds. The move-by-moonlight bright birds. There’s a full-page picture of an owl flying in with wide yellow hunter’s eyes. And this captures my son’s attention.
I’m about to turn the page, when he says, “I wish we had owls around here.”
I tell him we do. He says, “Well, how come I never see them?”
“Because they’re nocturnal.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means they sleep during the day and they’re awake at night, and I don’t plan on taking any night trips into the woods anytime soon, my boy.” I tousle his hair, and he giggles.
“They stay up all night?”
“Yup”
“I bet I could do that.”
“I’m sure you could.”
After I finish the book, I put my daughter to bed. Tuck her in tight, give her a drink of water, kiss her and tell her how much I love her. She says I love you too, daddy. And I say, croovy. She’s quick to let me know that I’m not supposed to speak their language. I apologize and close the door.
Then I head back to my son’s room where he’s laying with his hands interlocked behind the back of his head, like a pontificating middle aged man. Deep in thought. Trying to figure out the mysteries of the world. He’s so smart. He’s going to know more than me before long.
“They stay awake all night?”
I laugh. “Yes, they do.”
“I’m going to try that tonight.”
“Go right ahead. I love you, buddy. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I take a quick shower, and by the time I’m finished, I peek in to see my son softly snoring. Already a thousand miles away.
Better luck next time, kiddo.
The View from the Edge
There was once a fledgling hatched among eagles' eggs. No one knows how it happened, least alone himself.
He was raised like everyone else, and when the time came, he teetered on the ledge, like Mama Eagle had demoed, and plummeted with all the other eaglets, happily flapping his wings, catching the up wind. High in the skies he noticed nothing different, but getting closer to the ground, he was unnerved.
Why he had-- agh! no head!!
Just look at that shadow! Look he did in broad daylight. He pondered on it. He had eyes and vision and yet-- it didn't occur to him that he was built different-- he immediately grieved that something was missing. He hunched himself into his shoulders more so.
No one had treated him any different. And till he saw this shadow of himself he had felt no issue. Night fell. On the ledge, he watched critters scurrying far below, black, busy, similar yet different. He inched towards Papa Eagle, to settle his brooding conscious:
"...I am not an Eagle."
"Raptor, you're an Equal."
"What then am I ...really?"
"We see far in the light, that is freedom; we Eagles are Seekers.
...you, Owlet, see far in the dark, that is wisdom. Owls are Seers.
Are you wondering why there is only one of you here?"
"Yes. Surely I am not the only Owl?"
"No, indeed, there are more Owls than Eagles; but, throughout this world, there are far less Seers than Seekers."
11.10.2023
FFF#4: Owl challenge @ChrisSadhill
The Enchanted Owl
Each night, the owl could be seen, even at a distance, as he made his flight across the skies. Against a backdrop of moonlit clouds, his silhouette was striking, creating a nearly manlike image in its magnificence. He appeared much like an ethereal creature derived of ancient days or a mythological god. There was no doubt as to his importance in the world’s grand scheme of things. He was a creature of allure, of mystery, and of dreams.
From the bedroom window, Luna welcomed the owl’s arrival each night after the moon rose high. He swooped in with an ominous shriek, perched proudly on the high tree’s branch, and then proceeded to cock his head at a ninety degree angle to study her with rapt intensity as though he could perceive her innermost desires. His amber eyes always struck her to the core, filled with both mystery and ominous wisdom, and something more: something akin to unknown truths. Oh, but how Luna longed to know what the owl was thinking whenever he looked at her in such a way.
Tonight was no different. The owl watched her, enraptured by the sight she made as she stood in the moon’s glow. When he looked at her in such a way, she was wont to wonder if he were a mere bird. Instead, her mind drifted to other possibilities. Perhaps her nocturnal visitor was a man, a mortal, who had fallen under a spell of enchantment – a kind, handsome man who was a lover of all things associated with the moonlight. Oh, but the way the owl studied her. What did he know? What did he long to say? There was certainly much more to this owl than what met the eye.
Tonight, Luna recognized that the owl’s appearance was different somehow, and yet, she could not put her finger on exactly what made it so. His eyes of amber fixed on her without interruption, with an intensity unlike previous nights. Impulsively, Luna leaned out the window and extended her hand. Cooing softly, she beckoned the owl with a smile of utter innocence. The owl shifted, straightening to an impressive height as he plumped his feathers, apparently well pleased by her actions. Slowly, the bird moved along the branch toward Luna’s outstretched hand, his eyes never faltering in their focus of the woman in the window, a figure in flimsy white, enshrined in flowing strands of long, red hair, much like a fairy or garden nymph.
Luna’s coos became softer, sweeter. The bird stopped just short of the window. A need to touch the owl engulfing her, Luna lifted her hand and stroked the amber streaked feathers. As she did so, the owl’s eyes lightened to spun gold only moments before the moon shifted behind the clouds, leaving them in darkness.
Suddenly, in a flash of light, the moon reemerged to illuminate the window and a tall, broad shouldered man who stood before it. Confusion filled Luna, and she stumbled backwards.
Pitiless predator, pitiful prey.
It was an awful day, as an owl attempts to rest after an hour of flying
Heretofore to look for a meal to enjoy
Upon seeing a leafless tree in front of a small hut,
The sun couldn't be as bright as the bird's eyes.
For it saw a delicate rat peacefully munching a bite of stolen cheese.
Like a raindrop's pace it flew with a wide-open beak.
Woosh. Woosh. Woosh.
Even the air dances along with its strong wings.
Two eyes glued on the damp ground between green grasses.
Blinded by its desire, the owl's left wing smashed the unnoticed sharp branch.
Pain and imbalance were felt but the bird tried to recover from it
With the thought of catching the rat, that is now running for its own life.
The owl failed. The rat succeeded yet the cheeses was left.
It's now quite disappointing.
Helpless and lying on the silenced grass. A loud step was heard.
The owl was lifted by a hand, as delicate as the rat.
Slowly it was carried inside the small hut, as the girl hummed a lullaby.
She gives treatment to the owl's broken wing
And put it inside a cage.
A four-cornered cage, four times bigger than the owl.
Its beak was fed with numerous meat it cannot name a few.
This is life the owl desired to live, but not inside this kind of place.
Its bright eyes start to wander.
The strong independent owl was gone, now became a vulnerable prey.
Strengthened and weakened. The cycles go on and on
She opened the cage, the owl quietly lies on the ground,
It has forgotten how to fly.
Predator eyes are now weak as pitiful rat
As the owl's eyes landed on the ground, the rat hastily sneaked out,
With a bit of cheese on its tiny mouth.
The Night Owl
Blurred vision stymied my awareness as I arose from consciousness. As my mind and eyes adjusted, I attempted to comprehend the predicament I found myself in.
Darkness—it wasn’t just bleariness; my surroundings were black as well. So, this is my first need: To find a light switch.
Just as my fingers grazed a lamp, then the string, I came to my senses. What had I been thinking…? To turn on the light, raise the alarm, it was not safe…
I shuffled, stalking towards the door…I turn the knob ever so slowly, sensitive to the creak of the door. I only open it enough to slip through its opening. They sleep lightly in this house, those who own it.
The narrow hallway lends way to a room illuminated by the moon. I spot my target, my sweet, sweet escape…I approach, wary of the potential pitfall of every step.
But my footsteps quickened with confidence and urgency, and it is then, despite such caution, I make the fatal mistake.
My foot lands on something rubbery, my weight crushing the air inside of it, releasing a dreadful squeak. Before I could prevent it, the momentum catapulted my leg into the glass table, and it took every ounce of strength to restrain a primitive shriek…A rattling triggered the horrid image of a Chinese vase of painted pink chrysanthemums and abstract figures wobbling, fighting for its life flashes in my mind…Only once it settles, undisturbed, do I dare to let my breath go.
A rustling sound emerges from behind the cracked door…I hastily snatch my objective from the table and scamper on the balls of my feet, back to my cave…
“THAT YOU, LUCAS, CREEPING AROUND THE HOUSE?”
I held the door only slightly ajar—I couldn’t risk closing it now…
“I SWEAR, CHILD, IF YOU DON‘T FIX THIS WARPED LIFESTYLE YOU’RE ON, UP ALL NIGHT, SLEEPING HALF THE DAY, I WILL SEND YOU SOMEWHERE, I CAN‘T DEAL WITH THIS…”
An interlude of profane language ensued.
“LUCAS, GET YOUR A** INTO BED RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL TAKE YOU SOMEWHERE WHERE THEY WILL DO IT FOR YOU!”
A slam punctuated this statement, then silence fell after it. I quietly shut the door and snuck across the space.
An owl hooted, his mocking laugh penetrating the night. Like him, I was wide, wide awake.
I stopped short of my bed with a sigh, turned instead 45 degrees to my right. I fumbled through the Red Sea of dirty laundry, arms outstretched…felt the outline of a headrest, gently spun the chair. I sat myself softly, then spun it and myself 180 degrees. My right claw clutched the mouse, gave a careful shake of my prey, stimulating the glow of the screen as it came to life…I entered the realm of Fortnite.
I would face the consequences of the sleep-deprived son when morning came, but for now, the predator had arrived.
The Woods [a short excerpt from my unwritten book]
When we found out Evan was one of Alissa's “pets”, Aiden ordered me to stay away from him. I wasn't one of them, he wasn't in charge of me and regardless of finding out the truth about Evan, he was still my friend. I couldn't let Alissa hurt him. But something in them had changed, they were darker. More menacing, the way they stalked their prey at night. Alissa must have taken full control of them. They had always been scary but still had some form of humanity in them and now ... .now it was as if that was all lost. They were empty, nothing but darkness in them. I didn't know if they could be saved. How far gone were they? These kids she bewitched to do her bidding. They had lost all resemblance to my classmates. Their eerie owl-like eyes that watched your every move, waiting to strike. I needed to find a way to save them. Regardless of what Aiden said, they were still innocent, they were trapped under a curse. The problem was Alissa was a much older and stronger witch than I was, would I even stand a chance against her powers?
“Looks like we got ourselves a lost little mouse.” Jarrod's voice came from behind me, making me jump, colliding right into Evan.
“You do know what one of an owl's favorite snacks are, don't you?” Evan grabbed a few strands of my hair, playing with them.
“I want to help you, I'm going to try and break this curse.” I looked Evan in the eyes, trying to find some resemblance of the old him.
“Why on earth would we want you to do that, we’re free.” Jarrod came closer, trapping me between him and Evan.
“You're not free, she has you under a curse. She's controlling all of you.” I tried to plead with them.
“Why should we believe you?” I watched Evan as he asked.
“I'm your friend, I care about you.” my voice cracking.
“Friend? We’re not friends Danny, you're our meal.” I froze as Jarrod's lips touched my ear, sending a chill down my spine.
“Shall we have a taste?” His warm breath on my neck. My heart was pounding as I looked at Evan, hoping that he would snap out of this.
“I think I’ll pass.” He said as he looked me over and turned to walk away.
I grabbed a hold of his hand. “Wait, please.” It all happened so fast, Evan had me pinned to the ground, his face inches away from mine. His eyes were a black void, no emotion, just pure hatred.
“Don't think for one minute that your friendship meant anything to me, you were an order I was given. You should have listened to your little boyfriend and stayed away.
“It meant something to me.” With his hand around my throat my voice came out as a whisper.
“You can't save us Danny, we don't want to be saved."
Prophetic Plumage
With a slightly malevolent grin, the crooked man took his perch atop the roof‘s only seat. The small, wooden bench from carvèd oak made a creaking at his doing so. And now he waited.
With nothing better to do, and no sign of untimely disturbance, he crouched. It wouldn’t be long now.
The promise, so fantastical, so magical in nature, rang out inside his brain. No one else knew, no one else cared, so he waited.
He would get his wish, his less-than-humble desire. He would get all he ever wanted. For that, he waited.
The sun had now begun to set on the tail-end of this long foretold day, and a spike of doubt pecked its way into the figure‘s soul. When that pang grew, morphing into an awful talon of dread, he began to feel hope slipping away. As he contemplated climbing down from his rooftop abode, he felt the brush of breezy wings on his back.
“Ah,” he remembered, “an owl never arrives on time.”