Owl Screams between the Stars

There was a faint tang of ozone in the air. Taking a deep breath, she felt the harsh spray of seawater, an unwelcome chill on her already drenched and shivering figure, and grimaced at the overwhelming taste of brine on her palate. Still, Alice kept herself firmly seated on the edge of the cold, splintering pier, her feet dangling just above the powerfully crashing waves.

A storm was approaching from the horizon. The clouds that seemed to have stemmed from an idyllic fairytale- those, that had been joyously dancing across blue skies, had been replaced by roiling gloom, a violent mass of occasionally flashing whites and only the darkest shades of grey. In the distance, thunder reverberated akin to a particularly harshly shaken corrugated iron, a deafening rumble that was echoed in her bones. One, two, three…an intense violet flash over the watersent bright sparks dancing above the waters – eighteen seconds. Despite the fact that the tempest itself was still a fair way off, an unpleasant drizzle had begun to floatabove the water, obscuring the girl’s vision and dimming the reflection of the bright blazes in the sky.

Through the rainy veil, Alice could just about make out of several colossal shapes swimming beyond the flares in the clouds, and even though she had to squint her eyes to have even a shred of hope to catch a glimpse of the majestic beasts, she wouldn't even dare wish to be anywhere else. The humpback’s enchanting, mournful melody sounded from above, and so did another song - this one from a familiar bird.

Sighing longingly, Alice gave one last lingering glance at the whales in the clouds, before she opened her eyes.

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“Was the owl there again?”

Alice was supposed to be a free spirit who spread kindness and save whoever she could, not be locked up like unruly cattle. This was not why she had come to this place, and she dearly regretted her decision — in fact, were it not for her inability to leave people helpless, Alice would never have come here in the first place. There were plenty of people who had warned her away, who had told her that she’d only feel like a prisoner, but the girl hadn’t listened – had wanted to help even if she knew that her efforts were almost certainly in vain. Now, though, she couldn’t even attempt to salvage the situation, for she was stuck in this place.

She hated it here. It was all so…bleak. Murky brown and yellows splattered around the common areas were supposed to make the space seem warmer, more welcoming, but only accomplished a vague feeling of revulsion. Those particular drapes, the ones that were even more pointless than the others, and whose only function was to puff out dust whenever anyone bumped into them, had a phenomenally ugly pattern that almost exactly resembled burnt eggs. Although the dust particles tickled her nose, made her sneeze, and prompt her eyes to water unpleasantly, the girl was almost tempted to say that they were her favourite thing there-after all, the flakes glowed prettily in the light and provided the otherwise distastefully sterile room with some much-needed personality. Even if it was just plain filth.

“Yes.” She hated the place because it was horribly dreary.

“We’ve been over this already Miss Aella. I know it’s hard for you, but if you ever want to get better you need to put in some effort.” For you. As if there was anything wrong with her. She hated the people here too, because they were just as bleak, if not even more so. The older ones, that is. There were fun ones too, though the older people didn’t want them to have fun together. ‘Twas a real shame.

“Yes Ma’am, Illisha was there again.” Of course, Illisha was there. She was always there. There had not been a single time where Alice had been woken up by anything other than Illisha’s recognizable screeching.

“So what did you see this time?” It was always the same. Every time. The same questions. The same tone of voice. Only the answers varied consistently.

“There was a storm.” There always was a storm. The older people say that her psyche was unconsciously trying to process her trauma that way. That becausen her delusions were caused by a storm, a storm is obviously what has to star as the main role in her dreams. Alice thought they were all wrong, but it wasn’t as if her thoughts were worth much here, besides being victims of vivisection under microscopes of their standardized multiple-choice questionnaires.

“Alright, a storm.” How did the older people always manage to sound surprised when Alice repeated the same things? Had they already forgotten every word she’d ever spoken to them? To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise the girl all that much. “And what did it make you feel, this time?”

“A lot.”Alice hesitated, her mouth opening and closing. The older person looked at her expectantly over their glasses that she was sure they shared with every other older person here because they all seemed indistinguishable to her. “It was quite pretty. There were whales in the clouds.” The mammals had been quite gorgeous indeed, but the girl still missed home, her soft bed in Nirmoha, kilometres above ever-shifting sand that sprayed pulverised stone particles whenever dunes crashed into each other too harshly. The magic that made water sparkling, clear water flow upstream and the glittering blue-ish snow of her beloved crystal caverns.

“On a scale of one to ten-“ Oh, how she dreaded that sentence. Every time the old people came to talk to her, something similar would be uttered. ‘On a scale of one to ten.’ or ‘If your feelings had a percentage’ were phrases she couldn't understand, refused to understand. Why did these people have such a strange obsession with shoving things into boxes? Emotions were magic, and the arcane should never be caged. A force like that just couldn’t be contained by any means. Alice couldn’t remember where she heard or read that, but she was certain it was true. “-how real did this dream feel to you?” How real? In what manner was Alice to describe the vividness of a world that she perceived so much more strongly, loved so much more fiercely than she could ever do her current one?

“I don’t…maybe a six?” It was decided, then. She didn’t hate it here. She loathed it with a passion that would terrify even the fire sprites in the floating lagoon she’d once…dreamt of.

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Bright, was the first thought that flitted briefly through her mind. It was the very specific type of brightness that one grumbles about in the mornings, because it’s what’s disturbed a peaceful dream, yet cannot help but smile at, for the sun rays’ gentle warmth was a great many things, but unpleasant was not among them.

The second detail Alice noticed was the steady thudding and splattering of heavy raindrops on the vastly spanning canopy of ginormously leafed foliage. Facing away from the baldachin of green above her, the girl turned her head to silently study the droplets that were daintily dripping onto the soft soil next to where her face lay in the dirt. It seemed that where she’d awoken was one of the scattered spots that were spared from the rain, the downpour forming a perfect circle around a small waxy plant whose golden veined leaves carried a slight glow that was barely perceptible, even in the shade of the larger plants. Adalinda, her brain supplied helpfully, a fitting name that meant something like a shield.

Alas, protection from the rain was indeed needed since the downpour was, although indisputably beautiful, also saturated with a substance that induced euphoric hallucinations if it came in contact with certain species’ skin. As fate would have it, Alice belonged to one of the affected species.

Carefully digging out the patch of earth where the delicate plant resided, Alice cradled her newly acquired friend Adalinda in her palms and set off south, her leafy little companion diligently stretching its branches in the exact opposite direction. All around her, the water droplets were being repelled by a hardly perceptible, shimmering shield with a melodious pitter-patter, rendering her safe from the water’s effects.

She’d never dreamt up this particular world before but nevertheless seemed to know the ins and outs of its workings. She always did, wherever she went, except for the one Alice seemed to have gotten stuck in. Unfortunately, such obnoxious situations were the norm for her - it was probably the rumoured Aella luck striking again.

A little way ahead, the girl could discern a different scenery just beyond the thicket of the sprawling forest. There, just below her, a glittering city of broken mirror shards and pristine, but jagged, marble constructions clung to the walls of a steep lagoon. Instead of liquid, the lagoon offered an unobstructed view of a seemingly infinite sea of fluffy, golden-white clouds which drifted lazily on a mild breeze.

Beyond the lagoon, just over the whispy ocean, three suns were shining upon the earth, showering the land with much-needed light and warmth.

A strand of shimmering silver snapped across one of the suns. Alice squinted. It happened again and then — in a shockingly quick motion more wisps appeared and bound the star until its ordinary yellowy appearance was almost indistinguishable under the silvery mist. The ties restraining the star rapidly grew brighter until they were too painful to directly look at — a stark contrast to the mellow rays when she’d woken up, Alice thought idly- before, with a final bright pulse, the light ropes constricted and the bound sun collapsed, and then vanished in its entirety.

This is precisely what Alice had meant when she’d said that magic wasn’t meant to be caged. The arcane forces were an ancient, restless thing that prowled the realm and lent their aid on a whim. Trying to enslave them and force them to do one’s bidding was an all-around terrible idea when one valued their continued existence. Admittedly, the inhabitants of this world were quite crafty with how they went about it – trying to channel magic through metal and screws and ever-turning cogs that would have forced the mystic forces to run in circles until the end of time, had it worked, that is. Regrettably, fortune didn’t always favour the bold but sometimes, it looked kindly upon those with a compassionate nature.

The agitated wisps of magic writhed in place, not having a target to devour anymore, before they lashed out towards the city of shards and mirrors beneath her perch, and in an instant the jagged edges and looming towers disappeared and with the familiar screeching of Illisha, so was she.

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Alice lay bonelessly on a chair in the middle of her room. The afternoon sun was bearing down mercilessly through her window, drenching the room in reddish light and drowsy heat. Leisurely, the girl kicked her legs where they hung over the backrest and dragged her hand over the floors, only to hold it close to her eyes and examine the dust gathered on it. There was a hair among the dirt, as well as a tiny, shiny pebble. The girl wondered where it had come from. Alice gingerly set the pretty stone aside for later appreciation, before she blew the rest of the dust off of her fingers to watch it dance and shimmer.

Another shimmer caught her eye, this one outside of her room’s walls. Righting herself from her previous upside-down position, Alice curiously approached the window only to see a silvery something jerk across the sky. Alice squinted, and again the misty wisp lurched in the distance.

Putting some distance between herself and the window, the girl contemplated the mercurial moods of ancient forces. Beauty was a curse and a blessing. Power could be lost and gained in the span of a second. The arcane, while absolute, could not be influenced in its core since it was just as likely to grant one’s wish for sunny weather as it was to let a race succumb to madness. The only surefire way to gain its attention was to anger it, and the people of this world have doubtlessly managed that by denying its existence and might.

As her window shattered, Alice merely continued to watch on impassively. Tremors were beginning to wrack the building just as her door burst open and the older people stormed in, only to see the girl stand serenly in front of the fragmented shards.

An intimatley known shape soared through the air, and Alice couldn’t supress her smile even if she tried. Her beautiful, faithful companion sailed into the room and perched gracefully on her outstretched arm. The barn owl’s pearly feathers reflected the warring red and silver lights in the sky like a broken mirror, casting an eerie glow on Alice’s frame.

“Illisha, let’s go home.” The girl and her owl disappeared much the same way they had come into this realm – with a barn owl’s screech and not much fanfare, but this time – this time, Alice would not make the mistake of offering her heart to an ungrateful doomed world.