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.