Night of the Owls

Leaves crunched underfoot as Zenia hurried home. It was too late to be out. Too dark. The moon was the barest sliver in the sky, giving only the faintest light. Her brother would be worried. As would her mother, though she wouldn’t show it.

She could hardly see the ground in front of her. She wouldn’t have seen the creature if it hadn’t heard her approach, swiveling its head around. Two eyes glowed in the darkness and Zenia stopped cold.

Her breath formed a cloud in front of her as she stared back at the owl. She should have been afraid, and she was, but she was awed by the creature. She’d never seen one before and knew she wasn’t likely to again. Rare by their very nature as they were.

They were wise creatures, it was believed, their glowing eyes a sign of a light within. Their ability to turn their heads in a full rotation indicated that they saw all. It was said that owls were an omen, that if you saw one, it was a sign that you would soon gain valuable wisdom.

Zenia’s heart thudded. To gain wisdom was a great thing, but wisdom could only be gained through hardship. It was believed that owls were harbingers of difficult lessons. She feared the lesson before her.

With a ruffling sound, the owl took flight, soaring into the darkness. Zenia took a deep, shaking breath, gathering herself before she continued toward home.

It wasn’t until she was safely inside, the door closed and latched behind her that the knot in her chest loosened.

Lucian sat near the fireplace, his eyes meeting hers across the room. Relief was plain on his face. Born only minutes apart in the dead of winter, Zenia and Lucian felt as if each was an extension of the other.

Zenia shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook, ignoring the pointed look from her mother. She knew her mother was just as relieved as Lucian, but she was afraid, as so many were, and that fear made her hide any sign of vulnerability. Zenia knew, but she let her mother be.

She crossed the small room and sat close enough to her twin so they could whisper and not be overheard. Lucian, who knew her moods as well as his own, studied her face even as she looked at her hands.

“I saw an owl,” she said to him, keeping her voice low.

He stirred beside her. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything terrible will happen.” His words were true enough, but there was little conviction behind them.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sure it won’t.”

Zenia told herself that things would seem better in the morning, but morning came and the knot of worry was still tight in her chest. She considered staying close to home, thought it might be safer that way, but she didn’t want to be a servant to superstition. And besides, she had things to do that were far preferable to sitting at home and waiting for something terrible to happen.

She set out toward the Turnbough farm to pick up her mother’s weekly order of vegetables. As she made her way through town, she couldn’t help noticing a strange feeling in the air. A hush. She glanced around and saw others were doing the same. She hurried on.

When she reached the farm, she let herself in the gate as always, but stopped short before she entered the house. The kitchen window was open and through it, she caught a snippet of conversation that caused her to pause.

“…saw its eyes glowing in the dark,” Mrs. Turnbough said. “Its head swiveled all the way around.”

The woman she was talking to took a deep breath.

“It could be nothing,” she said.

It sounded just like what Lucian had said to her the night before, but the repetition only made the sentiment more hollow.

Zenia knocked at the door. Mrs. Turnbough was kind, but not overly familiar. Even so, she was noticeably more withdrawn than usual as she opened the door.

“Ah yes, Zenia. Come in. I have it all here.”

Zenia followed close behind as Mrs. Turnbough made her way back to the kitchen, clutching her empty basket.

“Pick what you like,” Mrs. Turnbough said.

Zenia hesitate in the doorway. She didn’t know if she ought to say anything. Mrs. Turnbough and her guest were studying her, their expressions becoming more questioning as the moments ticked by until Zenia blurted out the thought that she couldn’t get out of her head.

“I saw one too,” she said.

Mrs. Turnbough stilled. “Saw what, dear?”

“An owl. Last night. I’m sorry, I overheard you talking.”

The woman sitting at Mrs. Turnbough’s kitchen table knotted her hands together. “Two sightings in one night,” she said.

“It has to be a coincidence,” Zenia said.

“Of course. Of course it is.”

The three of them fell silent. They didn’t believe it, of course, that there was no connection, but were all desperate to pretend.

Amid the tension in the kitchen, Zenia gathered the vegetables her mother had ordered, thanked Mrs. Turnbough, and left the farmhouse.

When she returned home, Lucian met her at the gate. She could tell right away that something was wrong.

“What is it?” she said.

“I was just talking to Genevieve Talbot. Her father saw one last night too.”

“Wait…Mr. Talbot saw an owl last night? So did Mrs. Turnbough.”

Lucian’s eyes widened the slightest bit, but Zenia could see his fear plainly. “I don’t like this, Zenia.”

As the day went on, word of more sightings from the previous night made their way through the town. No one spoke of anything else and Zenia could do nothing quiet her racing thoughts. So many sightings meant something big was coming. She felt certain this was not going to be a simple lesson that she would learn and then move on from. This was something the entire town was going to need to face.

It was nearly night. Her mind was turning over and over as she fed the animals. It didn’t do any good to anticipate the inevitable, she knew, but it was impossible to think about anything else.

Zenia was just finishing up, straightening her back from feeding the chickens when she heard it. The unmistakable call of an owl.

She felt a chill deep in her marrow. Sighting an owl was enough to make even the bravest feel a thrill of fear. A second sighting could only be a sign of something truly worth fearing.

As much as she didn’t want to see it, something compelled her to turn. There it was, high up one of the tallest trees, staring back at her. Her heart pounded harder than ever. She had lived within the confirms of the same plot of land for her whole life, but what had always been familiar suddenly seemed strange.

It was late in the day, but even so, the shadows stretched further than they should have. Almost as if they were reaching for her.

She was about to turn back toward the house when she heard another owl call, coming from a different direction. A second pair of glowing eyes watched her from another tree. She didn’t hesitate this time. She turned and ran into the house, latching the door behind her.

***

“I’ve heard the talk,” Zenia said a few days later. More and more owl sightings had been reported. The previous night, Lucian had seen a group of four flying across the moon and Zenia couldn’t leave the house without hearing their call. “People are afraid. No one knows what to make of the owls. What they could mean.”

“I spoke with the Harrow boys. They’re saying it’s the witch,” Lucian said.

It was an old story. A tale for scaring children, but one that sent a chill up even the most stooped spines in the village. It was said that the witch lived in the forest that came right to the village’s edge. That she had lived there for hundreds of years, though no one alive had ever seen her.

“That can’t be true.” Their mother had turned away from the stove, a stirring spoon still clutched in her hand. “The witch is just a story. Nothing more.”

Zenia and Lucian looked to one another. A few days ago, they would have agreed. Now, anything seemed possible.

The day passed in furtive glances and hushed whispers. Something was coming, everyone was sure. What it would be and where it would come from were other matters and they only bred suspicion. The only thing that was certain was that it would affect the entire town for there was not a single soul who hadn’t been visited by an owl within the preceding days.

Mrs. Turnbough thought it was going to affect the food supply. She kept on about how this year’s vegetables were scrawnier than in years past and that the town was going to starve over the winter. Mr. Harrow and Mr. Talbot thought the danger was going to come in human form that the town ought to be wary of outsiders. Zenia and Lucian’s mother was convinced there would be some sort of natural disaster. A fire or a storm.

But the dominant theory sweeping through the town was that, no matter what was coming, it was at the hands of the witch. It had long been said that it was the townspeople who had driven her deep into the forest to live in isolation, that she had been severely mistreated and abused and that she was finally coming back for revenge.

Lucian seemed certain this was true.

“I heard whispering in the dark,” Lucian said at night. “I didn’t know the voices and I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but I could hear them.”

“What do you mean?” Zenia asked. “There’s so much whispering now.”

“It wasn’t human.”

“How could you tell?”

“I can’t explain it. It was the witch. Her demons that she summons. I could hear them. Zenia, I’m so afraid.”

And she could tell he was.

Another night passed. Zenia awoke and stared, bleary-eyed, at her bedroom door in the early morning light. She was sure she’d left her shawl draped over the end of her bed, but there it was, hanging from the doorknob. As if someone had worn it and didn’t put it back where it was. Desperately, she tried to remember. It had to have been at the end of her bed. It felt as if her mind was playing tricks on her. But no, she told herself. She had to believe what she remembered had happened. She thought back to the night before, tried to imagine if she had put the shawl on the bed or the doorknob.

She couldn’t remember doing either. She could remember doing both.

She was breathing faster, a single word repeating itself in her head. Witch.

It could no longer be denied by even the bravest of souls. Something was coming.

They had all been warned. Whatever was to come, it was going to leave no one unscathed.

Her mother and Lucian were already at the breakfast table when she came out of her room. They sat together in silence, their plates untouched. She took her seat, unwilling to break the silence.

More than an hour passed. Occasionally, they each moved food around their plates. The sound of cutlery was all that could be heard.

Finally, their mother sighed and pushed away from the table.

“All we can do is wait and that’s the worst of it. I think it’s the waiting, the not knowing what’s to come, that has everyone so unsettled.”

Dread sat heavy in the pit of Zenia’s stomach. She was beginning to think the omen was worse than whatever it foretold. An omen such as this could only foretell of great tragedy.

Zenia rushed through her errands. She didn’t even bother trying to overhear the gossip. All she could think was Something is coming. She was hurrying toward home when she felt a shift in the air.

Though it was midday, the sky suddenly went dark. Fear spread across the back of her neck as she looked up. The sun was entirely blotted out by a horde of owls. All as one, the let out an ear shattering screech.

Zenia didn’t hesitate. She dropped her basket and ran home as fast as her legs would carry her.

She was relieved to find that her brother and mother were already at home. Without offering any explanation, she started closing and latching the windows and doors. The cottage was plunged into darkness.

The sound of hundreds of owls soaring through the air was like a fierce wind. Shutters rattled in window frames.

Their screeches filled the skies.

Three pairs of wide eyes glowed in the dark cottage.

***

In the days that followed, they kept the shutters closed. They whispered when they had to communicate. Their eyes met in the darkness, their own fear mirrored back at them.

It was on the third day that Zenia came to sit next to Lucian as he stared into the fireplace.

“It’s been days,” she said. “It’s been days and nothing has happened.”

“It will, though,” Lucian replied. “An omen like that…”

He shivered by way of finishing his thought. Sometimes words couldn’t do a feeling justice.

“It won’t hurt to just step outside,” she said.

“You don’t know that.”

To illustrate her point, Zenia stood, crossing to the nearest window. The hinges squeaked as she opened the shutters, the sound reminiscent of an owl’s screech.

Though only a little light filtered in, after days of darkness she had to squint against the glare. She stood away from the window and turned toward Lucian.

“Just to see,” she said. “We don’t even have to go beyond the gate.”

Lucian stood and started across the room.

“You’ll let the witch in.”

Zenia watched her brother pull the shutter closed. She watched him retreat into the shadows where he remained, unmoving. There were no sounds coming from outside. No laughter, no conversations. Everyone had responded to the omen in the same way. By retreating. They believed that something was coming. The unknown future had become terrifying. And so they had shut their doors. They waited. Because the owls had appeared and that meant there was a lesson to be learned.

How quiet it was. It was a village of held breath. Lifeless.

Zenia looked again at her brother, hiding from the world out of fear of an unknown.

All at once she realized what they were meant to learn.