Paula Tybor Lmt

Fly High Dad

I was awoken by a loud screech. A haunting sound. It did little but rattle my nerves, for it's been a reoccurring sound on a nightly basis. The same bone chilling screech of a barn owl for almost a year now. I looked at my clock on my side table. 3:10 am. Dumb animal, why can't you let me sleep? I threw the blankets off me and stumbled to the bathroom. As I turned the light on, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. I jumped back a little as I almost couldn't recognize myself. I had a ghostly pale complection. My eyes, typically emerald green, were void of color and looked to be sunken into my heart shaped face. As if on cue, the dam broke and the water began to flow. Tears now too big for my own face, raced to escape their reservoir behind my eyes. I turned away from myself and did my deed. Returning to my bed, I flopped on my bed to the sound of yet another screech and a few hisses.