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Before
By
Noel Berube
The forest that lined the field behind my house is where Trish had gone missing. The search was done. Every hiking trail had been scoured. No trace was found and for the family now it was accepted she would never be seen again.
Only the animals of the forest would have seen her last. The deer, whose trails laced the grasses and brush, the small rodents rooting under ferns, the few rabbits that ventured into the field. And the owls.
The owls waited at the edge of the forest. Now and again I see them fall from the tree line to pluck the rabbits or rodents from their lives in the field. Owls, like the one that's been sitting on the fence post near the trail head. It's been there every night since the search for Trish was called off.
As most owls, it sits patiently, rarely turning its head. It's large, still eyes, I assume, waiting for the movement of its prey in the grasses. I haven't seen it strike though. It's stare seems to terminate ... here. I don't go out back much, but when I do, I'm aware of it's presence. So, tonight I think I'll stay inside and watch a movie as I down a few drinks.
Drowsiness takes me. The timer ends the movie and before alcohol sends me off and I swat the light out.
I roll over in the night, after unsettling dreams, sitting up to wad my pillow. The window catches the corner of my eye. Outside the window sits the owl. The haze of sleep rules though. Nothing to see here. Find yourself a mouse or rabbit to sink your claws into before ripping it to shreds.
My thick, sleepy mind makes doubt easy. Was it outside the window? I look again. The owl sits framed by glass. Is it larger though? A trick of reflection gives the illusion it's more distant but that would mean...it's size. I shake it off though. Sleep nearly takes me again but I feel a piercing almost pleading gaze. I look past the edge of my blanket. I swear it's in the room. Am I taken by some odd Strigine dream? It's eyes find me. They convey a desperate need. A knowledge. Had it seen Trish?
Our eyes are locked and the owl's head turns toward the forest. It flies in that direction. I sluff off the bedding and go to the window. I don't see it and begin to doubt it all when suddenly it dive bombs the window. It makes 3 tight, looping passes, each time tapping the window with a talon. It then swoops to the trail head fence post and lands looking in my direction. What more do I need? In a breathless beat, I dress and head out the door.
The cold night air wraps about me as I step in the yard. Of course, a brilliant moon shines on the field and at the edge I see the owl perched at the trailhead. It conveys an anxiousness as it ruffles it's wings but never does it make a sound. None of the expected, 'Who, hoos' or chirps or whistles.
It spreads it's wings though and looks toward the dark opening in the trees. This is a sign! There's no mistake! I pull out my phone to call my friend over here. My mind races as I dial. I need to find a first aid kit, water, flashlights, a blanket! Be ready to go when she gets here!
It's not happening though. The phone shows no service. I barely notice the bird take flight as I hold the phone skyward, letting it search for a signal. A flatline of reception shines in my face as I hold the phone out.
I hear a rustle and a wall of feathers looms from my right side. I'm dazed as the owl lands on my outstretched arm. I can feel the talons gripping through the jacket. More pressure and it might hurt. I'm stunned and amazed. I've never had this kind of connection with nature!
The owl seems smaller than it appeared before. Not nearly as threatening now that it grips me and looks upon me. I feel humbled by its trust and dizzied by the moment. It's eyes sink into me much like it's talons. It turns it's head to the trailhead and shakes it's wings. It's prompting me!
It knew and was going to guide me! My head swims and my feet seem to set off before I know it.
My feet drag me through the tall, wet grass and very quickly the entrance to the trailhead yawns before me. The owl flutters again and we dive together into the inky dark.
The trail is familiar to me from many hikes so despite the depths of black I can follow it nearly by memory. I'm fooling myself though as it seems i am really being guided on the trail by more astute eyes. At bends and switchbacks, over logs and rocks I feel the talons tighten there grip, as if pulling me about the obstacles. I'm still in thrall and pay little mind of the talons having pierced my skin. I feel the bird is just as excited as myself. It must really want this! From time to time it turns to look at me, inspiring me on. Now in the Moon light it seems larger. It's immense pupils pull me along.
Is that blood on my arm?
At a point on the trail as its crossing a meadow, wings beat the air and I stop and see a deer path breaking off from the main trail. It runs a short ways and then slopes down into a ravine. The path seems big enough that someone could mistake it as a hiking trail. Poor Trish. She had been missing nearly two weeks.
The owl leads me on this thin path and we enter the thicket into denser woods. Even at arms length the owl's head fills my vision.
How could it be sitting on my arm?
I crash through bushes and marshy mud. The branches cut my face and my feet bowl over stones and roots but I continue on like they aren't there. It almost seems easy to traverse. Not usual for a deer path with all the obstacles. I glance back. The grasses and branches and mud look like something was dragged through.
Concern raises in my stomach and I feel a stinging pain in my arm but it quickly subsides as the owl's enormous eternal eyes meet mine.
It seems like hours pass of plowing through this mess. Even if lost out here, why would she plow through this and not stick to trails?
I'm still in thrall to the moment but something's not right.
A small valley of moss covered boulders appears ahead. Through it runs a creek. The perimeter of the boulder field is framed by tall, dense trees that seem to loom. Do they have eyes? No. Vaguely in the shadows of the branches are owls. Dozens. My perspective must be off. They look huge.
If I ran could I even get out the way we came?
As we cross the creek I see up in the gnarled trees of the far side an enormous boulder. Whether by age or force it is split in two from top on down. My foot hits a large rock in the creek and I fear I'm going down but it slides right over. My mind is still swimming and a trick of the moonlight shadows make it appear as though the talons are needly and laced through my arm. More dark shadows stream along my arm.
Where the black boulder crack meets the ground is a wide gash. It's a cave. Now, I resist. I can turn back and lead searchers here. I stand at the entrance looking into the black. I see the reflection of the owl's eyes and my head swims. It must be 20 feet in but it's talons still grasp my arm.
There's no pain but I hear a snap from my arm. Something in my mind convinces me I just stepped on a branch.
I feel compelled to take this to the end and we enter headlong into the cold wet cave. At the back moonlight trickles from above and illuminates a small, nested chamber. My eyes are playing many tricks now. Are those branches ... or bones? Are those eggs in the corner ... or skulls? In the other corner is pile of (meat?) dark clothes. Stained blond hair covers a wide splayed gash. The air is thick and I feel numb and light.
"Is that Trish?", I hear myself say out loud.
Deep eyes swallow mine. I'm thrown down and sudden pain wrecks my belly as a hear a gravelly, wet response. "Who?"
© 2017 Noel Berube
After
By
Noel Berube
They called off the search party earlier that week. “Where are you?” I groused, staring out my window at the fields behind my house and the forest beyond. We scoured every trail that wove through them. I knew them all by heart. Still, we found no trace, and her family gave up hope.
Only the wild animals of the forest knew. The deer, whose trails laced the grasses and brush. The field mice rooting under the ferns. The rabbits that rambled through the fields. And the owls… witnessed what happened.
The owls who stand at wait along the edges of the forest. Now and again I see them swoop from the tree tops, plucking the rabbits and rodents from the fields below, swiftly dispatching their lives. One sat perched on the trailhead marker. It’s been there every night since Trish went missing. Watching it through my window, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge.
It sat, staring, rarely turning its head. Its enormous eyes remained fixed on the tall grass. I haven’t ventured out since they called off the last search. “Humph,” I shrugged, “Time for a movie and a drink… and then another.” I chuckled and turned from the window.
Hours later, lying on my couch, I set my empty whiskey glass next to the empty bottle on my coffee table. Drowsiness took me. The television shut itself off. Bleary-eyed, I turned off the lamp.
An unsettling dream jolted me awake. I stared into the dark, trying to recall it, but memory of the dream was lost. Sitting up, I wadded my pillow when something caught the corner of my eye… outside the window… the owl. Hazy sleep ruled me. “Nothing to see here.” I mumbled. “Go find a mouse.”
I remembered my dream… flashing images of the owl sinking its claws into a screeching rabbit before ripping it to shreds. “Trish loved bunnies.” I sighed.
My mind muddied with slumber, doubts clouded my memory. Was it outside my window, or was that part of my dream? I looked again. The owl sat beyond, framed by the glass. My eyes widened at its size. I stared at it and shook my head. “A trick of light… optical illusion…” I muttered. “Shake it off.” Sleep tugged at me and my eyes drifted closed.
I felt its piercing gaze. Peeking past the edge of my blanket, it seemed as if it was in the room. “Not a dream.” It stared at me. Its eyes seemed to convey a desperate need… a knowledge. “You haven’t seen Trish, have you?” I groggily asked.
Our eyes locked, and the owl’s head turned toward the forest. It launched and flew towards the tree-line. I threw off the bedding and went to the window. Peering out, I scanned the moonlit dark. “You’re drunk.” I mumbled. “Just a dream.”
It dive-bombed the window, making three tight, looping passes, scratching at the glass with its talons. Lifting on the air, it swooped back to the trail marker and landed, gazing back in my direction. “What more do you need? It’s a sign.” I stumbled around and dressed, heading outdoors.
The cold air wrapped around me as I stepped into the yard. A brilliant moon showered us with silvery light. It ruffled its wings. “You don’t say much, do you? Not a single, ‘Who, hoos’ or chirps or even a whistle?” I chuckled. “Polly want a cracker?”
It spread its wings and looked toward the dark gap in the trees. “This is a sign! No mistake!” My mind raced. I shook my head and shivered. Pulling out my phone, I tried calling a friend. “We’ll need a first aid kit, water, flashlights, a blanket!” The phone gave out three low tones and said, no service in bold letters. As I held the phone skyward, the owl took to the air. “Still no reception.” I grumbled, moving the cell phone around above me.
A rustling flutter and a wall of feathers loomed on my right. I startled as the owl landed on my outstretched arm. The talons gripped me, nearly piercing my coat. “Um… wow… that… almost hurts. More pressure and it might. Careful there! Wow! Cool!”
The owl seemed smaller. Not as threatening as before. I felt dizzy. Its stare pierced mine like its talons into my arm. It turned its gaze to the trailhead and fluttered its wings. I looked back at my phone. Still no signal. “Okay. Let’s do it! Lead the way.”
My head swam as my feet set off on their own volition, dragging me through the tall, wet grass to the entrance of the trailhead yawning before us. The owl fluttered its wings again, and we dove into the inky dark.
The moonlight trickled in through the canopy. Despite the depths of the dark, the trail was still familiar, albeit blurred. The owl urged me on, turn after turn, its more astute night vision guiding me over every obstacle. At bends and switchbacks, over logs and rocks, I felt it tighten its grip. Enthralled and dizzied by this connection with the creature, I paid little mind to the talons piercing my coat and skin. It waved its wings, pivoting me left and right, each turn increasingly urgent. The moon light broke through the trees. The owl seemed larger. Its immense pupils penetrating mine.
Is that blood on my arm?
The trail intersected with a meadow. Its wings beat at the air as I stopped and studied a deer trail breaking off from us. It stretched a short distance before sloping down a ravine. “Maybe?” I wondered if she mistook it for a hiking trail. Poor Trish. I thought.
It steered me down it. The thin path narrowed into a thicket, and beyond into denser woods. The owl seemed bigger, filling my peripheral vision. I wondered at it, perched on my arm. Dizzy, I shook my head, trying to recall how many drinks I knocked back before falling asleep.
Crashing through bushes and marshy mud, the branches lashed my face and my feet bowled over stones and roots. I continued as if they weren’t there. It almost seemed too easy to traverse. With all the obstacles, I glanced back, doubting it was a deer trail as I’d previously thought. The grasses, branches, and mud looked like something was dragged through them! “Foul play?” I wondered.
My stomach dropped. A stinging pain streaked through my arm. I darted glances around the dark. The owl’s enormous eyes met mine. Seconds passed like hours as we plowed through the thickening wild. Why would she come this way? I wondered. Even if lost out here, why would she plow through this and not stick to the trails? Something’s not right.
The trees fell back. A small valley of moss-covered boulders lay ahead. A creek ran through it. The towering woods loomed around this clearing. Do they have eyes? “No.” I shivered and laughed. “Stupid.” Shaking my head, squinting, struggling to focus, vaguely, in the shadows, I could make out dozens of owls perched on the branches above… watching me. “They’re huge.” I mumbled, looking back, trying to discern which way I came.
Beyond the creek, on the far side, at the edge of the gnarled trees, stood an enormous boulder. Whether by age or force, it was cleaved in two. My foot hit a large rock. I startled, as if about to trip and fall. Yet, I glided over it. My mind still swimming, the talons seemed to needle and lace through my arm in the moonlight. More dark shadows danced around me.
The boulder approached. The crack down its middle opened to a cave. I stiffened. “I have to… go back,” I shuddered, “lead them back here.” The cave yawned before me. Out of the pitch black, the moonlight reflected red in the retinas of a massive owl’s eyes. My head spun. The talons painlessly sank into my arm. I felt pressure, heard a snap. “I stepped on a branch.” I convinced myself.
Pulled headlong into the cold, damp cave, moonlight trickled from above and illuminated a small, nested chamber. I blinked and wondered if I was still dreaming. Are those branches… or bones? Are those eggs in the corner… or skulls? In the other corner was a pile of dark clothes, and a glistening heap. Stained blond hair? The thick air choked me. I felt numb and light.
“Trish?” I heard myself say out loud.
Deep eyes swallowed mine. I was thrown down and sudden pain wrecked my belly. A gravelly, wet voice replied. “Who?”
© 2017 Noel Berube
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