Penny For Your Thoughts?

I couldn’t sleep, but that was nothing new. At least it was a lovely night.

Stars glimmered overhead, and every so often I caught sight of a shooting star, flitting across the sky before burning out. The air was heavy with the smells of pollen and fresh cut grass. The moon was bright, the breeze was gentle, and the roof was warm against my back, shedding the heat it had gathered from the sun during the day.

The only sound the owl made when it landed was the gentle clicking of its claws against the gutter, before it hopped up onto the shingles and settled next to me. A plain barn owl, pale and amber across its wings, spotted and soft, silent.

I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees and watching the owl.

“You’re back,” I said quietly.

The owl turned its head, staring with its round, dark eyes. It hooted softly, and stretched to spread its wings wide in the moonlight. With a silent, shuddering flap, the owl was replaced with a girl.

No, not a girl. I’d learned that last year

She crouched on the roof next to me, draped in long, amber hair and mottled white feathers like a shawl. Their eyes were wide and staring, dark pools in their angular, pale face. The eyes didn’t change from owl to girl.

“May I have your name?” the girl asked, her voice musical and pleasing. The sound longed to put me at ease, but I knew better than to say yes.

“Not this time,” I replied calmly, “but you can call me Milo.”

The girl drew their lips back into a thin smile, turning to gaze out into the night again.

“Very well,” she said, “Milo.”

“Why are you back?” I asked warily.

The girl looked away from me, scanning the grass as if they hoped they might spot a mouse or shrew. Her feathers fluttered in the breeze.

“Curiosity,” they replied, turning their dark eyes back on me.

“About what?”

“You.” She cocked her head to the side, eyes widening beyond natural limits. I shuddered and she threw her head back and laughed. It was a friendly sound, joyful and guileless. It was exactly the sort of laugh to make you like a person, to trust them, but I could do neither.

“Me?” I asked, wandering at the reason even as I dreaded it.

“The other humans are sleeping,” the girl noted, staring out into the darkness as if she was looking at something very far away. “They’re sleeping, and you’re awake.”

“I’m a bit of a night owl, I guess,” I replied, letting out a short, sharp laugh at my own joke. The owl girl turned her gaze on me, rotating her head without moving her shoulders. They peered at me for a moment, then replied with their own pleasant laughter again. “I just have too much on my mind.”

The girl raised her hand, and with a flick of their fingers, the brightest, shiniest penny I had ever seen flashed into existence. The copper shone almost gold in the moonlight.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The coin was so pretty and enticing I had to remind myself it was only a penny. It wasn’t enough to actually buy anything, and if this creature were making me some kind of offer, it wasn’t to be taken lightly, no matter what it was.

“All of them?” I asked, refusing the deal but offering a negotiation. The girl grinned, showing a row of teeth that were too perfect, too straight.

“Perhaps just a few,” they replied, raising their eyebrows and cocking their head to the side, intrigued at my interest. “A penny isn’t worth much anymore, after all.”

She extended her hand to me, her arm long, bony, and pale, like a wing shorn of its feathers. The penny gleamed on their palm.

“What will you do with them?” I asked.

The girl narrowed their eyes, looking up into the night. She turned, rotating her head on her shoulders as smoothly as an owl, in a way that no human neck could turn. They surveyed the dark lawn, silent and contemplative, before turning back to me, eyes searching for a moment longer.

“Learn,’ they replied, drawing the word out into a sentence. She gazed up at me with those unnatural dark eyes, unblinking, waiting.

“I choose the thoughts?” I asked, still cautious. The girl considered for a moment, then nodded.

“That seems fair.”

I chewed my lip, taking very careful stock of all the things buzzing angrily around in my head. I almost wanted to just let them have their pick, but that was dangerous. Given the choice, a creature like the owl was unlikely to take a thought I wanted to part with.

They waited patiently. Intermittently gazing out at the grass, up at the stars, and back to me, their movements too smooth or too sharp, their eyes round and unnerving. Her hand remained extended towards me, the penny glinting.

It would be nice to be able to sleep. Not be kept awake by worries and feelings of worthlessness. Not be afraid of my own pains and anxieties. Getting rid of all of them was more appealing than I cared to admit to myself, but I couldn’t give them all up. After so long, I wasn’t sure who I would be without all of them, and I wasn’t ready to start over from scratch. A name was easier to replace than a whole self.

Maybe just a few, though. Maybe just one, I could part with, and sleep a little easier.

“This one,” I said, calling the thought forward, my voice shaking. “This one about…being a useless waste of space that no one wants around…you can have it.”

“Just one?” the girl asked, raising an eyebrow. She drew her chin back coyly, a small smile on her face. “For a whole penny?”

“Just the one,” I confirmed.

The girl’s eyes flicked to the side, and she held very still, as if listening for the thought before she agreed. She hefted the coin.

“The deal is the deal.”

I plucked the penny from their hand. She grinned, and there was something malicious in it. Slowly, she drew her skeletal arm back under the cover of her hair and her feathers, watching me with those unblinking eyes.

I felt no different, at least, not that I could tell. I examined the penny, and it was just a penny. Shiny and new, but a penny just the same.

The girl yawned, and I caught it, shaking my head and blinking sleepy tears out of my eyes. It was probably time to turn in.

“Until next year?” I asked, pushing up on my knees and turning towards my bedroom window. The owl girl blinked at me.

“Why?” she asked.

“Just…you know, since it was last year when I saw you and now you’re back…” I offered, but the girl didn’t seem to understand. Instead, she laughed again.

“You’re funny,” they said lightly. She shifted her feathery shawl, shuddering back into an owl. They turned their head all the way around to watch me climb back inside, then leapt silently from the roof and vanished into the night.