That night, when the funeral was over and Aunt Sarah's body rested in
Pineview Cemetery, Kate awoke from a restless sleep and went to the
window. It was a cold night that promised frost, but Uncle Toby kept
the heat on so high in the house, that Kate was perfectly comfortable
in a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. Now as she approached the
window, she could feel a slight chill creeping from beneath the
panes.
Shivering slightly, she wrapped her arms around her chest and sat
down on the window seat. Silver moonlight lit the otherwise black
sky, and highlighted the enormous oak tree that stood a few feet from
the window. All the leaves had fallen the month before, leaving the
branches exposed. They reminded her of deformed claws scratching
their sharp nails as they reached into the air. She shivered again
and closed her eyes a moment, her forehead pressed against the cool
glass.
Suddenly Kate's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at a
white owl perched quietly in the tree, just feet from where she sat.
She let out a strangled gasp of surprise but didn't dare move, lest
she scare it away. There was something sad about the owl, if owls
could be sad. It's eyes were wide and alarmed, and stared at her so
intensely, as if it were trying to make contact with her in some way.
She remembered seeing a white owl earlier that day, in the cemetery.
Could it be the same one?
In the back of her mind, she began recalling short, brief glimpses of
the owl...things she had readily dismissed without thinking twice.
Yesterday morning when she took out the trash...Perched on a limb in
front of the dining room window...Every night a white, feathery flash
across her bedroom window.
Kate slowly backed away from the window, her eyes never leaving the
owl. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather creeped along
her spine, and she quickly climbed into bed and pulled the covers up
to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut, but didn't go to sleep for a
very, very long time.
The next morning, Kate ate a quick breakfast of toast and orange
juice, and headed outside. She felt the need to get out of the house,
away from Eddie and Pat, and to stretch her legs. It was freezing
this morning, and she was glad she had packed her heavier coat. She
wrapped a red scarf around her neck for added warmth, and went out
the back door.
She remembered days playing in the backyard with Uncle Toby and Aunt
Sarah, and she smiled at the memories. It was a large backyard,
though part of it was wooded. Kate walked slowly around the house,
her shoes collecting mud and old, wet leaves as she went. She was
thinking about her other life - her real life - back in that tiny
apartment. The pizza place was loud and smelled of tomato sauce and
pepperoni and grease. Sometimes at night she would be awakened by the
sound of rowdy customers, and every piece of clothing she owned
seemed to reek of pizza and subs. She knew she would have to go back
soon - she couldn't stay here in Aunt Sarah's house forever.
A strong gust of wind blew across the yard, stirring the wet leaves.
Kate looked up into the bare trees, and the branches were swaying
back and forth. She saw a white flash out of the corner of her eye,
and turned to see the owl on the grass a few feet from her.
"What on earth!" She cried out, but the owl didn't move. It was
looking at her like it had the night before. She realized the
creature must be somewhat tame, to land so close to her. It sat there
a minute, and then began it's wings began to flap around, as if it
were trying to fly away and couldn't. One time it did fly off a few
feet, only to tumble to the ground once again.
"What do you want?" she whispered softly, taking a few cautious steps
toward it. As she got closer, she saw that it's feathers looked
disheveled and sickly, and she wondered if it was molting. It was
leaning it's body heavily to the left, and it's wing hung lifeless.
It was obvious that the bird was ill, and instead of being afraid,
she felt a sudden surge of compassion for it.
"Aw, you poor thing," she said softly as she moved closer
still. "What happened to you?"
Of course, the owl didn't answer, but it looked up at her as if it
knew exactly what she was saying.
Kate stopped a few inches from it, and bent down slowly. "Where do
you come from?" She murmured, and reached out, her fingers just
brushing it's soft, white feathers.
Suddenly, as if mustering all the strength it had left, the owl few
off, across the gray sky and into the wood, until it was out of
sight. Kate stood up, frowning. It was as if the owl didn't want her
compassion, her gentle touch. But that was stupid; it was an owl,
after all!
"You've lost it," she told herself as she headed back to the house.
She refused to think about the owl anymore, but somewhere in her
mind, it's image stayed there.