The Scream of Freedom

I felt the familiar weather-worn floorboards that were far from smooth beneath my aching body. It was as if I could feel every cut, splinter and uneven area below as I struggled to get comfortable from the night before. For as long as I have slept in this dilapidated prison of wood, I had thought it would eventually become easier to rest. I had hoped for such ease. Unfortunately, for the past three moon cycles, all I came to know was the feeling of broken and worn things. The rough and wet cedar planks that surrounded me, the two broken seats that sat in this shack, the feeble side table that held the few items I was able to keep, and my makeshift bed of cracks and unsettled dust. I must have fallen asleep at some point because as I peeked through my dry, roughly shut eye lid, I could see the first rays of the sun shining through. Despite being held captive in this cage of an environment I could not deny the feeling of the sun on my skin, breaking through the holes in the shed like vibrant bursts of warmth. I most certainly had fallen asleep from desperation, not so much from comfort or by choice. Choice, as my time here has proven, was a luxury far forgotten and lost.

The cedar colored boards appeared warped, as if the floorboards were trying to push themselves against the ground to run from the things it had experienced. As if it felt trapped too, desperately pleading to be released. This old barn that housed me has seen some of the most atrocious acts. The most degrading, humiliating and strange behavior placed upon me, all in the name of “love”. Love was a word that would come to represent so much for me and also how little I actually understood it. Love clearly did not reside here in this darkened place that was only lit by the sun’s occasional kiss. How could it? There was nothing comforting, nurturing or unconditional present in this place. My captor, who is more absent than present repeatedly claims to me “Love is why you are here. So I can gaze upon your beautiful eyes every day to know you love me and need me too.” To my captor, love is control. Love is what has led me to be held in this barn but I had hoped its true meaning would lead to my eventual escape.

As I sat up, placing my hands against the boards beneath to get into a sitting position, my face was bathed in the sun’s golden light. I reached over to the warped table and retrieved the hand mirror that rested against the side of it. I glanced at my reflection, looking at my overall facial structure but unable to meet my own gaze. Unable to face the shame and disappointment my eyes knowingly displayed. Unable to face my truth. My skin, damp from the rainfall that had occurred the night before, appeared to be lightly dirty, but still clean. I was never quite sure if the markings were on the mirror alone or on me, becoming a kind of permanent residue of the grime I felt in more ways than I would care to admit. I couldn’t imagine how I could remain clean, considering the amount of heavy woes that I had come to carry. As I pressed my hands against the ground to steady my balance to stand, my eyes came into focus more clearly. I could see the room that had housed me for the past few months. It was rectangular but barren, almost nothing inside except the few items mentioned before. I longed to return to my family home, a complete contrast from this isolated existence of life I had come to know. My marriage and courtship was a joining that not even my family could foresee the dangers of. I had imagined receiving letters, reconnecting and begging me to visit them again. The letters never came as no one knew where I was. They certainly did not know I was being held against my will. After the ceremony and after the harvest moon I was whisked away under the guise of a honeymoon and the beginning of a new partnership. My captor formerly known as my husband, with his bright eyes and charmingly manipulative words that swept me off of my feet, eventually swept me away from the life I had known. I was no match for this level of deceit and sudden change. I told my mother and father I would be back very soon and could not wait to tell them all about the travels I would be doing and adventures I would be having. I still remember the lasting smile they both held when we locked eyes that night and they expressed their love and happiness for me. That was the last time I had seen my family.

As I glanced down at the chain around my ankle I followed its tail with my eyes around the room. It wrapped across the room like a snake of solitude, its rusted links mirroring the intricate formations a group of ophidians would make as they traveled. Unlike the snakes however, there was no such freedom or shedding of the skin I would come to experience. Atleast one that I could foresee.

The chain was normally connected to a pole right outside of the barn, about 15 meters away. It was generous enough that I could comfortably go into the barn and also take in the beauty of my picturesque but isolated surroundings. The trees, tall as the eye could see and with hills and valleys so wide it resembled those post cards that were sold at the markets in town, at least from what I could remember of the markets. As I walked out of the barn my feet connected to a small patch of dirt that surrounded my home to the lush grass and green of the countryside. When my feet touched the grass I came to a sudden halt, in shock at what my eyes were trying to process. I could see the chain wrapped around the pole but today it appeared to be different, slightly loose, almost begging to be forced open. I blinked in confusion and glanced over to the home that housed my captor, just a couple of yards away from my much smaller quarters. I did not see a sign that he was present, no horses out front, nor any sound or signal of activity. As I took another weighted step into the grass I could heard the familiar short scream of a very distinct animal call. Growing up in these parts I was more than familiar with the shriek of the barn owl. I felt a knot in the lower part of my stomach as I knew that a critical moment was about to occur, whether I was ready for it or not.

My mama told me the story of the barn owl, or the Tyto as they’re called where i’m from. Mama had said if you see the Tyto and he stares at you, not just looking but really peers deep into your eye, into your soul, then you know you have to pay attention. It was an omen and a message to assess your situation for a change was more than likely imminent. If you heed the Tyto's call you will be granted a return visit by him the next day. However, if you chose to ignore him, his cries will sound so distant and faint because you have lost your way and will struggle to find your way back home. In my dreams I could swear I heard the owl’s cry, but I could never place my gaze upon him during the waking hours. But to my surprise, as I looked around I could finally see him. This beautiful Tyto, with his oval face and deep knowing eyes sat atop my captor’s home. We locked eyes for a good 20 seconds until I paused and glanced below me, viewing the chains that had held me for 90 long days and 90 painful nights. I looked up only to see him again, still staring with a knowing yet quizzical look. This time the owl stared with his head slightly turned, as if to say “I don’t have all day…”. I saw this winged wonder and just as soon as he tilted his head, a moment later he was gone with a quick burst of flight away into the sky. He was flying home, his wings carrying him swiftly and strongly. Flying home to be with his parliament, a joyous return.

As I took a deep breath, the deepest one I had taken in such a long time, I mustered up my will and strength. The bough was about to break. Enough was enough. It was time to heed the owl’s cry. I kicked my leg so far back and so quickly I had feared it would snap but it didn't. My leg, though worn and sore, was left intact. What did break before me, however, were the chains that surrounded me for those three treacherous months. The clank of the metal breaking from the pole was so thunderous that I was sure the heavens could hear it. It might have been a quiet sound but to me, it was an enormous roar, drowning out the sadness I had stifled for such a long time. The release of the shackles, both physical and the ones I held in deep. I let out a giant sigh, one that whimpered into tears. As I took four quiet but swift steps through the grass I looked around to see if my anyone had heard my brave escape. There was no sign of my captor nor of anyone else. I knew just a few miles through the grass I could start over. I could find assistance and would eventually be reconnected with my family. I could let the world really hear my sighs, see the shackle marks that held me for so long, feel the pain that I held in deep. The chance to connect and feel a warm hug, the sound of laughter, the release of tears with someone that loves me, an actual supportive love and not a devastating love. I knew all that was standing between me and my freedom were these broken chains on the ground. I took the biggest step over them and then shuffled my way through the tall green grass. The picturesque scene, the one resembling the old postcards from the market, was now a memory of the past as I took step after step and leap after leap in the opposite direction towards salvation. I wasn’t sure how I was moving, so swiftly and with such purpose after a period of defeat and loss. I began to cry tears of joy as I continued trekking through the trees, feeling my burden and heaviness lifting with each step. Off in the distance I could hear that old owl’s cry again, this time only miles away. I imagined his eyes and face following me as I continued to run through the forest, giving me his studious stare with that knowing smile upon his face. As I ran and my tears started to dry I could feel the smile creeping across my face. I looked forward to seeing the Tyto again tomorrow.