The Tree

The sun was weak as it started to set that chilly fall day, and the crisp air ruffled my loose, mousy hair. The weather was perfect, in my opinion, but the forecast was calling for snow within a few days as the temperature would drop.

I sighed heavily as I walked along the path between buildings on my college campus. The changing leaves were beautiful. Since it was the middle of the semester, more people were outside enjoying the weather before it got too cold. I passed a few groups of other students relaxing beneath large oak trees and pulled out my phone to check the time. I still had another 30 minutes before my literature class, so I decided to take advantage, too.

I stepped off the path and found a lone pine tree between the library and sciences buildings. I plopped my messenger bag down, followed swiftly by the rest of me. I sighed, pulled out my thick copy of The Corporation Wars trilogy by Ken MacLeod, and was already a few paragraphs into where I had left off when I started hearing a strange, hissing kind of call behind me. I assumed it was a lingering cicada, so I ignored it and tried to keep reading. But the sound just got louder, and then it was accompanied by a scratching noise, as well.

Startled, I shifted around to look at the tree I was resting against. There, about ten feet up almost hidden by a branch was a heart-shaped, white face staring back at me. My heart started pounding as the bird opened its beak and let out that same strangled hissing sound, its large black eyes seemingly staring into my soul. I’d heard owls before, of course, but had never been this close to one. I knew they could seriously damage a person if they felt threatened, so I shakily grabbed my book and my bag, slowly stood, and started to back away from the tree. This was one fight I did not want to pick today.

Once I was what felt like a safe distance away, I turned and tucked my book into my bag, deciding not to tempt the great outdoors any further than I already had today. I never really had much luck outside. I was a shy woman, had always had my nose in a book, and I had decided long ago that that was plenty adventure for me. So here I was, in my third year of university, almost finished with my literature degree, and had almost been attacked by a barn owl because I thought it would be fun to sit outside and read for once. Lesson learned I guess.

I stole one more look at the tree over my shoulder, but the owl had retreated back into its hole. Sighing in relief, I made my way to my second favorite building on campus: the fine arts building.

My class that afternoon ended up running late due to a heated discussion on the merits of symbolism used in some of Poe’s poems, so by the time I left the building, it was fully dark outside. Most of my classmates lived on campus, so once we exited, they veered off to the left toward the dorms. I, however, had gotten lucky with an internship at a publishing house this past summer and had saved enough to pay for an off-campus apartment for the year. I went right towards the parking lots, and, coincidentally, the owl tree from earlier.

I debated going around the library to avoid the tree but decided the owl was probably out hunting right now. So, I committed to the shortest path to my car. As I approached the tree, I couldn’t help but glance up to see if maybe the owl was still around but was a tiny bit disappointed to see the hole in the tree trunk was empty.

Before I could stop myself, still looking up, I ran into another body, hard. I stumbled back, crying out as I ricocheted off the other person and onto my butt. I landed hard enough that my bag went flying, and then a voice above me said, “Oh, my god. Are you okay? I didn’t even see you there.” The voice was deep, and while on the surface seemed polite, but there was some kind of undertone that instantly put my hackles up.

I groaned and started to stand. “I’m fine. That was my fault. Should have been watching where I was going. I’m so sorry.” I reached down to grab my bag, trying to avoid the man as he stepped closer, but he beat me to it and hefted the bag up. Sighing, I finally lifted my eyes to meet his. He was a good-looking guy, with dark hair and eyes, but the smile on his face felt wrong somehow. “Thank you,” I said, holding my hand out for the bag.

“No problem. It’s alright. Let me walk you to where you’re going. It’s the least I can do for causing you to fall.” He swung my bag over his shoulder and cocked his head to one side. “Where are you headed? There’s a party happening at my dorm. Maybe I could make it up to you with a drink or something.”

I gave a strained chuckle. “While I appreciate the offer, I need to get home. My car is just over there. Can I have my bag please?” My hand was still raised to receive it.

The smile on his face started to slip a little. “I’m sorry, but you ran into me, so the least you could do is make it up to me. I’m a nice guy, after all. I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Or you can give me my bag back since I apologized and we’re both adults. Shit happens, and I am sorry. But I need to get going.” I surprised myself by snapping, and by cursing. I was notorious for taking the path of least resistance, but something about him made me very wary. I just wanted to get away. There was no one on this side of campus at this time of night, since the library closed an hour ago, and he was a good foot taller and 75 pounds heavier than I was. I didn’t like this situation at all.

He smiled again, but this time it felt genuine, and it terrified me. It was the smile of a predator. He must have had the same thought I did.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he commanded, then he grabbed my right arm hard around my bicep.

“Let go of me!” I yelled, trying to yank away from him, but his grip was too hard. He shook me hard enough to jar my teeth, then started pulling me towards the dark library building. “Stop! Help!”

“Shut up. No one will come save you now, sweetie,” he growled. He dropped my bag on the ground just off the path so he could grab me with both hands.

I started struggling in earnest, and he released one arm to land a hard, closed-fist blow on one side of my face. I cried out and started to fall again, but he yanked me back up against his body. I screamed, words lost and tried hitting him with my free arm.

Before I could connect, however, a loud, demonic-sounding screech rang out behind me, and we both jumped. A flurry of angry brown and white feathers flew between the two of us. I stumbled back, falling onto the cold ground. I stared in shock as the large barn owl furiously attacked the man. I was breathing hard, but I couldn’t hear anything other than the man’s screams and the owl’s continued screeches.

Finally, the man fell, and the owl flapped its wings to fly overhead, screeching still. The man was bleeding from scratches on his arms, face, and neck. The owl had not given him any mercy, apparently. He stumbled to his feet without a word and ran in the direction of the dorms, whimpering the whole time.

I slowly stood, as well, keeping an eye on the agitated bird still circling above me. After the man disappeared, the bird landed on a tree branch in front of its hidey-hole, finally quiet, watching me with those big, deep eyes.

Sniffling as I felt the tears coming on and my body crashing from adrenaline, I whispered, “Thank you,” before grabbing my bag and practically running to my car. After I was safely tucked inside, having checked the backseat and locking the doors, I broke down crying, hard. I was shy, but not too sheltered. This, unfortunately, was not the first time I had been through something like this. Once I had calmed down enough that I thought I could drive, I sat up straighter in my seat and noticed the owl still watching me, perched in the tree with its head turned almost all the way around to do so. The tree was the tallest on campus, and the owl had chosen that one to nest in. I was so glad for it.

Who knew something so inhuman could convey such sad emotions in its eyes? The owl looked like he was feeling my own pain. I would never look at owls the same way from that day forward.