Judgement

The barnyard owl sees everything. Even in the dark.

I catch its white feathers in the rafters, head turned away and into itself as the cold, winter snow continues to pour outside. The wind whistles and shakes the tin roof every so often, instigating some anxiety within me, as sharp as ice itself.

I'm shuttered in this barn until this snow storm passes. Although it is below freezing outside, my body feels incredibly warm. Chills and nausea from earlier have turned over to sweat and dizziness. All I can do is lay down and look ahead, focusing on my breath and survival, moment by moment. I fight off sleep, scared that once it takes me it won't be temporary.

I continue to stare at the barn owl. Its head slowly turns towards me. I can only make out the outline, as the only light source comes from a lightbulb at the corner of the barn. I finally see its eyes, sharp black dots against a white coat. It's a terrifying picture, but I start to get angry.

I feel heat pulsing through me - not a feverish temperature but a red, intense warmth radiating from my body. My jaw is clenched and I taste metal. I feel my eyes rolling back and I lose feeling in my body. The last thing I see is the owl, staring down at me.

.................................................................................................................

I start to wake up, not sure how much time has passed. I open my eyes and look up. I blink and notice I'm much closer to the rafters than before. I look down and feel a weight as heavy as a rock in the put of my stomach. Terror and fear like no other consume me as I see myself, on the barn floor. Straw and dust coating my sprawled body. I want to scream but can't. I want to move but I am paralyzed in fear.

Someone coughs and my attention turns towards the seven figures walking into the barn. The doors forcefully slam shut, winter storm still raging beyond these four walls.

It's dark but I can vaguely make out these figures - one with a disfigured, devilish face, another barely able to walk due to its enormous figure. One with a pickled look of disgust. A sensual figure arm in arm with an animalish one. The one leading the charge is the tallest, with a look of glee etched into its face. The last is short and the most human-looking of all, with a fur coat and gloves to match. These figures are alien, resembling people but with features that don't look quite right for what we are. I don't dare move, not wanting to draw attention to these creatures. That is until I see my body on the floor.

The one with the fur coat and gloves is the first to go towards my body, stretching down to grab my hand.

"He's dead alright," the man says.

Dead? No, I can't be. There's nothing after death, just a deep darkness that waits, a deep ocean of nothingness eventually takes us all.

"Such a shame," says the more sensual figure, as she slips her hand out from animalish one. I finally catch a glimpse of her face and I'm captivated. Her features are soft and hard, like paint strokes on a canvas. From quick glance she looks comforting, even warm, but once the light hits her face, those same features become sharp. Her face comes incredibly close to mine, eyes casting judgement as the scan the body, my body, that's sprawled on the floor.

"Who will escort him?" says the enormous figure through a yawn.

At that moment a loud crack splits through the building, shaking the walls. All eyes turn towards figure with the disfigured looking face - who's now clenching its jaw so hard, you can see the throbbing veins through its skin.

"You lazy, indecent shriveled cow," he says through gritted teeth. "You think you can pass off another job to someone else? When was the last time you made any effort to help this team?"

The enormous figure stares at the angry one, taking out what looks like sweet cakes, and starts to eat. This infuriates the pickled-face one even more, charging at the fat one with hands outstretched, aiming for its neck. The figure trips over the animalish one, who at some point in the argument, decided to lay down and close its eyes. The angry one landed with a loud thud next to my body, which vibrated slightly with the racket.

"I'll be the one to bring him with me," says the tallest one. I tried catching a closer look at the face, trying to figure out where that would be.

"His damnation should be written in history under 'Pride'."

I immediately panic. Are they talking about hell? I'm not an evil man, surely I don't belong in hell. A burning, poisonous feeling takes over my entire body.

They start to grab my body and a deep fear consumes me. I scream as loud as I can, NO! That thought overtakes my entire body, my entire being.

No, No, No!

Suddenly all figures' eyes are on me. Staring above at my place in the rafters. Each pair piercing into my soul, with depths as deep as the cosmos and a level of knowledge that only comes with eons of living.

"Well," says the figure with the fur gloves, slowly taking them off, "looks like we found us a witness."

I stand, frozen in time and space. Did I make a mistake, bringing attention to myself? Would I have been better to just stay still, no longer a part of my body? Or would I still have ended up in hell, wherever my body may be?

The tallest figure, wanting to take me to the gates, looks up and smiles. It's the smile of a person who knows they have power over you, with little care to your outcome. Its presence seems to radiate the thought You Are Nothing.

"Is this your friend, little creature?"

It's at that moment I realize I am the owl. By some mistake of the cosmos, whatever tangible thing that is the soul has been spit into this body. "Yes," I manage to say, not daring to tell them the truth.

The one with the fur gloves appears to be scanning my face. Or the owl's face. Or whatever I am at this moment.

"Tell you what," he says, "We'll tell you all about your little friend over here. You tell us why he shouldn't be dragged down to the pits."

I blink, not fully understanding what he's saying. Should I make a deal with these devils?

"This is the last, and only chance you have to save your friend," says the one with face like a painting, eyes not making full contact with me.

I nod my head slowly. At that moment its head twisted ever so slightly, the blonde hair on her head turned slowly to a straw like color, losing its luminescence and revealing small bugs crawling through the strands.

.........................................................................................................................

"Well," says the enormous figure slowly stepping towards me. "Let's just get this over with."

I finally catch a better glance of this creature's - devil's - face. It has the body of a bloated bug, with green/sallowish skin and a sweaty face. I stare at its small, muddy brown beady eyes.

"I," says this devil through a wheeze, "am Gluttony."

Gluttony? I think to myself. I blink multiple times, confused and trying to understand the situation before me.

"You're friend is not so innocent. He drinks wine and eats more than his fair share."

"Well," I say with slight annoyance, "Everyone at some point has taken more than their fair share."

"He's stolen from shopkeepers."

"He also paid back what he's stolen, either through donations or through gifts to the owners themselves," sure eternal damnation isn't given over a few loaves of bread and some cold cuts.

"He's taken wine and booze, not out of need. He's drunken to almost absolute annihilation, and grows angry when he's had a drink or two."

"But he gave up that poison long ago, knowing the danger it causes other people." I remember those nights, barely, where some dark liquor helped keep me warm during winter storms like these.

"Oh," says the disfigured figure, "but he also caused a little *lasting* trouble under that same poison" That devil looks at me like prey, drool slowly dripping from the left side of his mouth. This one resembles what the churches say are demons. There are no horns, but that can't be confirmed considering the thick, black hair could be thick enough to cover them.

I try to think of what lasting trouble he could be talking about. And then a memory, hazy, but there, flashed across my mind. A bar, a few broken beer bottles, wood chairs, a door barely hanging onto its hinges. A knife. I flinch but try to catch myself. A sense of guilt starts to prickle slowly across my body, starting at the back of my neck.

"Your friend handicapped a man who he considered family. At only 17 this young fellow," he says as he points a long, skinny finger towards my body on the ground, "took a knife to a barkeep. One that took away his alcohol. Absolutely pulverized his left leg after sticking a knife in him, leaving him crippled to this day."

I manage to keep eye contact with this devil, trying not to look guilty. "Yes, but he worked hard for that barkeep after. Running errands and even taking care of any other drunks that tried to cause too much trouble. He's even taken care of his youngest son, giving him a job to do because the bar is no place for teenager."

That devil stomps his foot, a slight tremor shakes the barn.

"Can you say he did all of those things out of atonement? Or maybe he wanted something more?" interjected the man with fur coat and gloves. He steps forward and has teeth whiter than the snow outside. Everything about his dress was immaculate, fur coat not even showing a spec of a flake.

"What do you mean?" I ask, wondering whether or not he knew about the barkeep's family.

"Did he not hope to take the bar for himself. Hopefully have the business under his name," says this man. His eyes are hidden behind glasses, which only shows light and reflections. I stare at my own, which is now a barn owl. A very small one at that.

The man smiles, "The barkeep had daughters. And the son was in no shape to take care of a business. There is something *off* about that young fellow, something that one doesn't grow out of."

"Well, if the barkeep wanted to pass off the business to someone he trusted, why is this an issue? The young son couldn't take care of it, so lend it to a man trying to do his best?"

The picked-face figure steps forward. "Oh, there's no issues. Especially if it's truly a man wanting to do his best. And this wasn't the only man."

This devil's face has bright, green eyes. The smile mimics the one next to the fur coated one. Greed and Envy, I realize. I don't know if this creature is closer to a man or to a woman in figure and shape, but I do know this devil is the ugliest of the bunch, even worse the giant worm like creature that first stepped forward.

"There's nothing wrong with competition," I say, knowing where they might be going.

"Yes, but lying? Cheating? Stealing? Those are all sins worthy of the hottest flames," says another devil, all eyes turning towards the only feminine figure of the bunch.

She walks forward slowly, a beauty in the shadows but those bugs are etched in my mind, crawling all over her hair.

"Do you know what happened with the barkeep's daughter?" she says through a sly smile, eyebrows raised looking slightly entertained.

I wince at that comment, feeling more like an allegation than a question.

The smile gets wider, and this devil's voice, like silk, continues to draw on, almost silent and incredibly soft.

"I'm sure the barkeep's daughter would feel that this man's deserving of hell."

"I don't know what you mean," I say through my - or this owl's - beak.

"He made a promise to the barkeep's daughter, to love her. But he never did, he used her. To try to gain business."

"That's nothing new in this world," I say. "Marriage is sometimes a business. And this man's son wouldn't have been able to keep the bar open."

"But there's fairness in business. You took the daughter. Didn't love her, hoping to be given the bar. But the barkeep knew this man couldn't handle it. Thought he would have run it to the ground, and he would have been right. Ended up leaving the poor girl."

Old memories started popping up. Nights lying next to my old wife, Anna. Soft brown eyes. Soft body. Could be a little moody, and her voice was absolutely shrill. I didn't love her. Having her touch me in the night, absolutely annoyed as she tried to cuddle closer. No, I didn't love her. Her touch felt like poison, disgusted by the thought of doing anything with her. Was with her for two years before I learned the barkeep wasn't going to hand me the business.

"She was harmless but the man hated her. Was disgusted by her and didn't hide it. Openly flirting with other women at the bar. Going after a few of the younger ones. Spent the night with a few of them."

"He left her everything. Maybe he wasn't faithful but he didn't leave her without anything. And from what I hear, she's very happy with someone else."

"Better off," says a voice off in the distance. I turn my head and see a figure lying on the wood floor, straw tickling its face. This devil doesn't even have his eyes open.

"I've heard a few other woman curse his name," says the womanly figure in front of me.

"Sounds more like these girls' own demons than this man's."

Face went cold, sly smile turning into a slit cut into a face.

"Well," says the tallest devil, who was sitting down for this entire trial. Standing up, he almost met me eye to eye as I stay seated in the rafters.

"We can settle this fairly quickly."

All the devils stepped back, and this one took center stage.

"It's quite funny that you're willing to stand up for this man," he says, mouth stretching wide. Who knew, devils really like to smile.

"Well," I say, knowing whatever afterlife awaits me hinges on these next few moments, "I believe he's a man worth saving."

"And you believe he's worth saving?" he leans forward as he asks this, and although I can see that his eyes are black, I feel as if there's nothing behind them. A tin can, really.

I puff out my chest a bit, "He's been a good man that's paid his dues," I say, somehow feeling as if I am being led into some sort of trap.

"No man can save himself," he spits back at me.

"I am not a man," I say, spreading out the owl's wings.

"No, but it's a laugh to think you can save someone else."

"I can at least try," I say, desperately trying to keep my tone even.

"No man truly can save himself," he says as he leans back, "And any animal that thinks they can save a person else is truly mad."

Dread again fills the pit of my stomach. As this devil gets closer to my body on the floor, the owl one I occupy starts to feel incredibly heavy.

"That's the problem with humans. They never asked to be save. They continue to believe they're capable of being the best they can be by themselves."

He grabs my shoulder and my eyes shoot back. I'm going back and forth from the owl's body to the heavy one that's on the floor. My heart in my human body starts to flutter.

"Why should this man be given eternal paradise," says this devil's voice, sounding near then far, near then far as I move from body to body, "when he believes he should be given everything without realizing he deserves none of it?"

The back and forth makes me dizzy. I start gaining more stability in my human body, moving a little bit. I look back at the barn owl hovering in the rafters. For one split second I'm back in the rafters looking down at the entire scene, but then am slammed back on the ground, in my human form. I can't keep my head up straight, I'm incredibly dizzy. I feel an extreme heaviness, as if a concrete slab has been dropped on my body and I try to let out a scream but feel suffocated.

"God help me," I sputter out, not knowing if my pathetic plea left this barn.

Pride. Sloth.