Niki Stark

The Betrayal of a Barn Owl

The brisk night air flows throughout the plumage that decorates my wings. I glide effortlessly through the branches and trees. Careful to not hit a single one. The moon shines a muted yellow. Much like the teeth of the man who lives in the cabin near my home. My heart is pounding. I keep a lookout for my prey. I see small mice and creatures. I hear insects scuttling along the bark of nearby trunks. Creatin a rhythmic soundtrack to my hunt. What I am after is much larger than any of these meager meals. I stretch my four toes. I have been airborne for quite some now. Perhaps a small snack would be a welcome break.