The Haunted Owl

The first time he saw it, he froze in his tracks and held his breath. Its large, eerie eyes pierced his soul; it was a dark, bone-chilling stare that seemed to strip him of his thoughts, his emotions, and his masculinity, leaving him drenched in inexplicable fear and dread. He remembered that the rake he had so firmly held within his palm quivered uncontrollably and fell unto the hay. The owl’s ghoulish-looking black eyes scrutinized the fallen rake then slowly but purposely made their way back to him, soliciting contact again with his eyes. It almost seemed to smirk as if it sensed his fear and he felt terribly mortified to be a man at that moment. He wished that he could have a distraction, some random distraction if only the all-consuming kind where he could be so preoccupied and unfocused that his mind would forget about this peculiar, ghostly looking owl that had frozen his heart with terror.

When he went to bed that night, he dreamt of the sinister-looking barn owl. He remembered seeing its damp, brown feathers, mottled with grey and white, sticking upright upon its back as if they were held in place by some unseen force. In the dream he had stumbled, collapsing against a wall, where he cowered in fear. He could feel rather than see his face whitened in deathly horror as the owl’s saucer-like red eyes widened with each increasing second as if they would swallow him whole. He whimpered in fear as his legs trembled uncontrollably then froze as the owl’s face suddenly moved mechanically in a clockwise direction as it opened its beak and hissed.

“Hisssssss,” it shrieked shrilly. “Hisssssss!” Then it descended on him, beak open and its ferocious claws parted wide open…

“Noooo!” He groaned as he woke up with a start. He could feel his heart thumping furiously within his chest and he stared around the room wondering if he was still trapped in his dream. The familiar beige dresser and the family portraits on the wall reminded him that he was in his bedroom. Slowly, his breathing normalized and his trembling hands wiped the icy beads of sweat running down the sides of his face.

“Norman!” He heard his wife’s querulous voice beside him and he looked up to see her face contorted in annoyance and curiosity as she lay against the pillow.

“You startled me with your screams! What happened? Did you have a nightmare or something?”

Inwardly he ruminated on the idea of divulging the dream to her but he eventually decided against it. After all, how puerile it would sound saying he’d had a nightmare about a barn owl! They’d both seen many a barn owl before on the farm so she would wonder why he was so horrified. She wouldn’t understand that this was no usual, commonplace barn owl. He’d never seen one look quite like that with its huge, spectral face and fiendish-looking black eyes that seemed to glow a reddish hue. He suspected it was haunted but Martha might laugh at him and say he was being superstitious. After all, she didn’t believe in ghosts or haunted creatures. She believed that was all a figment of one’s imagination. He still couldn’t help feeling a bit remorseful for lying to her.

“Oh, nothing really. Just dreamt I was falling off a cliff, hanging on the edge.” He did feel as if he was on the edge of a mental breakdown. ‘Stop it, Norman,’ his mind yelled. ‘It’s just a…’

He couldn’t complete the thought without trembling. Martha scratched her messy head of hair and looked at him with a frown.

“Falling off the edge of a cliff, huh? You probably went to bed too drunk last night!” She scolded. He looked at her resentfully.

“But…but I haven’t drunk whiskey since Saturday,” he declared then stopped as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Well what else besides alcohol can explain your dream? I’ve never quite dreamt of any nonsense like that! Let me go make breakfast then we’ll go feed the animals. Falling off a cliff indeed!” She snorted, promptly tying her hair into a large bun. He looked at her messy, grey-streaked hair and nodded passively. He was still thinking of the barn owl.

**** ****

A week passed and nothing. He did not see or dream of the owl. He was starting to return to his normal self and his good spirits. He was even laughing with the animals as he lay the hay and grass for the horses and sheep to eat.

“How’s my little Dolly today?” He gushed at his favourite lamb. She was so plump and fluffy at six months old. “Such a good girl you are!” He cooed, rubbing her soft fleece as she bleated happily. From her birth, he and she had developed a deep bond. He had helped deliver her while her mother writhed in pain and from that day it was almost as if she viewed him as her dad or so he liked to think. When she wasn’t nursing her mum, she was usually frolicking about, following him around the barn. Martha liked to tease him that Dolly was their farm help. He was cooing and talking to her when he felt the lamb stiffen beneath his hand, staring ahead, her eyes frozen in fear.

“What’s wrong, love?” He exclaimed as he looked at her scared face. The lamb turned to look at him as if trying to communicate with him then let out a high-pitched bleat. Startled, he turned towards the direction of her gaze and nearly lost his balance. Above, in the remote corner of the barn, in a dark corner was the barn owl staring witheringly at him. He could hear the horses moving around restlessly in the barn but he dared not look away. He watched cautiously as the large owl slowly turned its gaze to the frightened lamb, looking at it sinisterly. He could feel a sudden, sharp pain spurring in his chest as he desperately tried to breathe but no air came out. He realized that he was violently holding in his breath. He felt the lamb’s body jerk under his hand and it bolted off, bleating loudly.

“Here we are again…you and I!” He whispered fearfully, cradling his hand against his chest as his lips quivered. He dared not shout for fear of the ramifications. He prayed silently for his feet to move so he could flee but they wouldn’t budge. They stood as if frozen and planted to the ground. The owl’s large face glowered in the dusk as a few dying sun rays streamed into the window of the barn. He could see its molten red eyes looking like a zombie’s, red and huge, and its piercing eyes hovering over his every move, with its beak slightly open. Suddenly it let out a loud hiss then flapped its huge, wings which looked like moving shadows in the corner of the barn. The noise sounded like a loud thud.

“God have mercy on my soul!” He gasped.

“Norman?” A sharp voice interrupted the deathly silence. “Norman?!” A second later, his wife, Martha bustled into the barn with her red apron affixed to her ample waist. She was still dressed in her boots and cowgirl hat. A look of relief plastered over her face.

“Where the heck were you? I kept yelling for you to come for supper but you never replied!” She said peering at him suspiciously. “What’s that weird look on your face about?” She asked, coughing loudly into her hand and inspecting him. “Are the animals okay?”

He was never so happy to see her as he was now. At least he wasn’t alone with this haunted creature. He cleared his throat and tried to make his voice sound lighthearted.

“I…I…” he started, pointing in the direction where he had last spotted the owl. His wife’s eyes followed the direction of his quivering hand. He shuddered as he saw the owl was no longer there. It was as if it had vanished in thin air!

“What the…” he muttered, scratching his head perplexedly. Martha frowned at him.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” His wife inquired sharply.

“I…I,” he blabbered but he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Seriously, Norman! Are you losing it? What are you babbling about? Let’s go eat! It’s about time,” she said walking off. Norman looked at the corner of the barn again and saw only darkness and heard the neighing of the horses.

“I swear this damned owl is gonna be the death of me!” He muttered, scratching his head. Was he going crazy? He reasoned with himself that the owl had been there. “Maybe it’s more afraid of my wife than I am!” He joked to himself.

“Norman!” His wife yelled sharply. He hurried out of the barn.

“Coming dear!” He replied.

**** ****

It had been nearly a month since he’d seen the owl yet he hadn’t breathed a sigh of relief. Every day he didn’t see it, took a toll on him because he knew it could appear at any time and he was afraid of encountering it again. He felt as if he was on death row, not knowing when the day of torture would arrive. It was beginning to take an emotional toll on him. He had lost almost twenty pounds in that short space of time and he could see in the mirror that his face looked haggard and tortured. He felt deep consternation that he was guarding this torturous secret from his wife. Martha had found out her mother was sick with bronchitis and had gone out of town to visit her for a few days. He had stayed home to tend to the farm animals. After all, they couldn’t feed or take care of themselves. Even though on one hand he was happy to have some peace and quiet by himself, on the other hand, part of himself was inwardly terrified of the unknown, that is, the owl. He wondered if it lurked somewhere in the shadows waiting to spook him. He was finding himself obsessing day in and day out about this owl yet he knew that it wasn’t a fond, carefree preoccupation; it was a fearful obsession bordering on insanity.

“I must be losing my senses worrying over a stupid barn owl!” He laughed at his own charade of bravado as he looked around warily as he tended to the barn and fed the animals. He knew tonight he would sleep with the lights on and the Bible next to him. He wasn’t taking any chances.

The past two nights he slept peacefully without any haunted dreams or detection of the owl. He’d had a recurring dream of floating in a field of lilies under a golden sky and woke up feeling refreshed and serene. Throughout the course of the day, he maintained communication with Martha who said that her mother was doing slightly better.

“I’m making her lots of brewed teas and chicken soup,” Martha said to him. “Don’t work too late and put the sheep in before dark cause I’m not there to help you. I’ll see you in a day or two,” she added.

“Yes, darling, I will! See you soon!” He said. “Love you,” he added then got off the phone with her. His stomach was growling which was an indication it was almost supper time. He looked at his watch and frowned. It was 6:40 pm.

“Where did the time go?” He asked himself bemusedly then decided to round up the sheep first. He mentally drafted a plan that he would put all the animals in the barn, take a nice shower then heat some of the delicious beef stew Martha had left for him. He’d eat it with some bread and…

A loud rustle startled him from his thoughts and he stopped and listened. Silence for roughly five minutes, followed by the neighing of a couple of fillies a few feet away and the snort of some hogs. He stood still for a few more minutes, wondering if he had imagined it all before unwillingly deciding it was just the wind. As he turned to walk away, he heard it this time louder, followed by a loud hiss.

“What the…” he started then nearly fell backward when he saw the large, barn owl perched on the wooden gate staring at him in the semi- darkness. Its large, red eyes were staring sharply, almost angrily at him and its beak slightly opened. Around its red eyes were large, dark circles that gave its large face a grotesquely ghoulish appearance in the semi-darkness of the barn. In the midst of his panic, Norman’s mind rationalized furiously that he needed to bring in the animals as with every passing minute it got darker but his heart and the rest of his body were struck by such paralyzing fear that it rendered his body immobile. It was an incapacitating fear he couldn’t explain but when he looked at the owl’s ghostly face, he knew why he was so horrified. Unlike the other times when he had seen it, this evening, it sat upright, making it look even larger with its wings outstretched like two large black cloaks.

“Hsssss,” Its beak parted even wider as it descended. Its huge wings made a whooshing sound as they parted, and it looked like a large winged ghost, with its large talons morbidly outstretched. It took his brain a few seconds to register that the feathered beast was headed towards him. Before he realized it, he had let out a loud, blood-curdling scream as the owl hovered towards him. His adrenaline was high now as it was flight versus fight. His hands blindly reached for the pistol attached to his waistband but when he fired, his hands were trembling so uncontrollably that he missed the owl by a few inches. He could see dark mists of brown and grey feathers floating in the air but the gunshot seemed to have enraged the winged beast. He cowered as he saw it lurch at him with its claws shuddering violently.

“Noooo!” He screamed as his body convulsed into spasms of terror and his eyes blended with the darkness.

***** *****

Martha frowned. She hadn’t heard from her husband in the past two days and she was very upset with him. She hadn’t wanted to leave her mother’s side until she had felt better but Martha was definitely a bit annoyed with Norman’s new-founded lack of consideration. She rationalized that he had never ignored her calls for days at a time before but then when he was drunk, he could sleep for hours at a time, almost a day. But two days? He would definitely have some explaining to do when she got home, she thought, huffing with vexation. Her mother stood faithfully by her side as she packed her stuff to go. She smiled at her mother, secretly noting that her rosy cheeks had returned.

“Glad you’re feeling better, mum! I’ll call you as soon as I get home, after scolding Norman!” She said kissing her mother. Her mother chuckled. She was a short, slightly hunched lady of nearly seventy years with salt and pepper shoulder-length hair, more salt than pepper now, Martha silently noted.

“Don’t kill him!” Her mother joked and Martha cackled loudly. “He’ll be fine, mum!” She said as she walked towards the car and waved back to her mother.

The one-and-a-half hour drive felt longer than normal because she was vigorously consumed in her thoughts, wondering what Norman could possibly be doing. She wondered if something had happened to the animals or worse, his beloved Dolly. Did Dolly get ill? Is that why he hadn’t called? Maybe he was tending to her! She knew how much he loved that lamb! Or, maybe one of the horses had escaped again and he was out searching for it.

“Dammit! Stop overthinking it!” She chided herself but her hands were trembling.

When she finally arrived home, she couldn’t believe her eyes. In the short time she had been away, the place looked disarrayed and most of the animals were wandering outdoors making sounds at the same time. It was like a cacophony of bleats, oinks, and neighs and the place looked chaotic with spilled bowls of water and feed everywhere.

“What in the name…” She said then stopped and sniffed. Suddenly she grimaced and promptly blocked her nose. “What the heck is that stench?” She asked aloud, walking towards the pervading odour which appeared to be emanating from the barn. She frowned as she approached. She could see the barn door was wide open and she saw Dolly, the lamb standing a few feet away.

“Dolly!” She cried, running towards the lamb and rubbing her head. “What’s going on? Where’s papa?” But the lamb only stared at her for a few minutes then let out a heart-wrenching cry. Martha felt as if she was in a daze.

“What is going on?” She whispered nervously then stepped into the barn with Dolly a few feet behind her. Almost instantaneously, she let out a loud scream. Lying on the ground at the entrance of the barn was the body of her husband. His eyes were closed and his face was purple. It took her a few minutes to realize he was lifeless. He had a horrible grimace on his face and his left hand clutched his chest whilst the other hand appeared to be stiffly outstretched as if he had been warding off an unseen attack.

“Norman!” She screamed running towards him but the scent was overwhelming and it forced her to take a few steps back. Sobbing, she dialed 911.

**** ****

Martha still couldn’t believe she was standing here looking at her husband’s coffin, ten feet down as mounds of shoveled earth slowly started covering it. She wailed and wiped her nose with her handkerchief as family friends hugged her while her mother consolingly held her hand.

“What did the coroner say? You never told me!” One of her friends whispered in her ear. Martha wiped her tears and tried to collect herself.

“I didn’t?” She croaked. She hadn’t been herself the last few days. She had barely returned anyone’s calls far more discuss the circumstances of her husband’s death. She was frankly still traumatized by how she had discovered him.

“He…he…said…” She inhaled deeply and tried not to choke as the words sputtered out. “Said it was a massive heart attack. Said Norman probably hadn’t seen it coming.”

“How weird!” Her friend muttered. “He always exercised and ate healthily! Didn’t he?”

Martha nodded in agreement.

“He sure did! That’s what…I told the doctor but then maybe the good Lord was ready for him! There were no marks of violence or anything so…” She said then stopped. The tears were flowing again. “Honestly, Bridgette, I don’t know what I’m gonna do without him! We ran this farm together like a team! It won’t be the same!”

“Don’t worry, Martha! I already told you that Joe and I will come to give you a hand. After all, we only live ten minutes away. Don’t worry! Norman wouldn’t have wanted you to worry! You know that! I’m sure he’s looking down on you from heaven, surrounded by those lilies he loved so much!” Bridgette said softly, embracing her friend. Martha smiled sadly.

“I’m sure he is,” she said softly then frowned.

“What in goodness’ name is that?” She said pointing her hand straight ahead. Bridgette and her mother frowned and look in the direction her hand was pointing. A few feet away from the freshly covered mound of earth was a large, strange-looking owl with speckled brown and white greyish feathers perched on a deserted Cypress tree looking down at the small crowd that had gathered for the funeral. Its eyes were large and uncanny and seemed to glow a reddish hue in the sunlight. It seemed to be oscillating its head between staring intently at the activities and then at the freshly dug grave as it rotated its neck from side to side. They all gasped as the owl suddenly hissed as it stared contemptuously at them for a few minutes. Then, with almost sanctimonious air, it preened its feathers then suddenly flew away.

“How odd! An owl in the middle of the afternoon! That has to be probably the most peculiar-looking owl I’ve ever seen!” Martha explained as her mother nodded in agreement.

“I agree! Looked like a barn owl of some sort? Quite hideous though and a bit spooky looking with those dreadful red eyes, huh!” Bridgette confessed, rubbing her arms vigorously. “I swear! The sight of that creature gave me goosebumps!”

Martha chuckled.

“If Norman had seen it, I’m sure it would have freaked him the heck out!” She exclaimed, watching the uncanny, flapping figure flying away in the distance. She was almost relieved it was gone. “God help us! What a strange-looking owl!” She muttered.