The Omen

Silence. Normally unwelcome by the average person, pure silence was bliss to her. Not a single sound escaped down the stairs, not even the creaking of a floorboard. She took a moment to listen and be sure there was no stir before taking a deep breath and starting.

Getting off her old, springy bed, she walked to the stairs and gazed up them. This was it. Her foot reached the first step, only for it to let out an old, dead, broken moan. Her breath froze, allowing time to see if the silence would break by a booming shout.

Nothing.

Gathering her courage, she pressed her body to the edge of the steps. The wood was less used there, much sturdier, and it would be harder to make a sound. She hugged the wall as she crept up the steps to the old, wooden door. This was it, the test. Gingerly gripping the doorknob and pushing the door open, she watched as the old hinges slid on top of each other, her heart beating hard and fast as her palms began to sweat.

They made no sound, oh the joys of silence.

Finding her bare feet stepping out onto the landing of the living room, she glanced around to look for the old man. He was laying on the couch with nothing but a little snore escaping his lips. An empty teacup sat on the small table beside him, he was fast asleep. She couldn’t help but smile.

Every day she cooked meals for the old man, cleaned his house, and while he wasn’t watching she would step on the boards and mentally mark the ones that creaked the least. She knew her path. She stretched her leg out and touched her toe to the first board in perfect pointe work, her grace while doing so attributed to her dance lessons as a child. How she missed those days. Picking her way across the living room, she held her breath to minimize any small movements, keeping herself steady. She was flawless.

She reached the living room window and slid the frame up, the first fingers of fresh air gliding across her cheeks and brushing her brown hair back. It tasted so sweet, it felt like years since she had this air. Closing her eyes for a second, she enjoyed it. She tasted the sweet humidity of a summer night breeze, smelt the earth, the flowers, and could picture freedom.

hoot

Her eyes snapped open.

The adrenaline began to pump in her veins as her heart fluttered, worried the old man heard. She glanced up, and her gaze was met by a beautiful barn owl sitting on the roof. It was stark white with a full, cream coloured heart framing its flawless face. Its eyes were black, but soft and warm. She remembered learning about them in folk lore during English class. The owl was Athena, a great Greek goddess, and with the owl Athena brought wisdom. Yes, this was the perfect day for her to test her freedom. This was a good omen.

Athena broke the connection with another soft hoot, and she looked back to see the old man stir gently on the couch. Her throat caught, and she slipped out the window.

Her bare feet touched the cold, dewy grass as the warm, summer night air embraced her with a hug, welcoming her. She wanted to take a moment to bury her feet in the grass, let them taste that freedom just like her nose did, like her tongue did, but she looked at Athena with the stark white face and knew she didn’t have time. Feeling that same adrenaline pump in her veins she dug her toes into the ground, dirt squishing between them, and took off.

What is better than silence? Flight.

Athena stretched her wings. Long, white feathers folded down, dotted with the same cream seen around its face. The wings were an epitome of grace and strength, of everything wise and old, and it took flight with her.

Her heart beat fast as the adrenaline pushed through her veins, her feet flew across the grass and into the forest. She could feel Athena flying with her, her wisdom and guidance pushing her along. This was it, she didn’t have to be controlled by the old man anymore. She could be free! Be her own person!

The taste of freedom was nothing like she tasted before, not even the summer breeze could compare. It was sweet, strong, and bold. It made her skin tingle, and her arm hairs raise on end. She felt like a trapped animal finally being set free into the land it yearned for. A laugh boiled up from her chest, it sounded crazy to her, like it came from someone else, but it was a laugh of utter relief. She flew through the forest and laughed, glancing back.

Laughter stopped abruptly.

Athena shrieked a blood curdling scream, and her breath caught as it pierced her ears. Athena’s eyes were no longer soft and warm, but cold and dark. They felt like death. Athena... no, it can’t be Athena... the barn owl shrieked again as its talons grew in front of her eyes. They sharpened and curved, becoming deadly points that she knew would pierce her back. Her pure white feathers started to morph, becoming shaggy and black. It was like looking into the dark hole of hell.

Trying not to scream, she covered her mouth and ran harder, the feeling of flight no longer having the effect of freedom, but rather dried. She was prey.

Her feet pounded the ground as the owl shrieked. The shriek was high pitched, but inside was a deep, booming voice that shouted, “I told you!”

“I told you never to leave! You will regret what you are making me do!”

With this, she screamed. It was a blood curdling scream that filled the night air, and tears began to stream down her face. “Let me go!” She shouted back, scared, her heart beating so fast it might almost burst, her palms so sweaty she could feel them drip as her running fists pumped through the air. “Let me go. I’m not your daughter!”

She could feel the owl pressing closer as she pushed her way through branches. They dug into her arms, drawing blood, and it stung. She refused to care, she refused to look back. She was prey.

The branches grabbed onto her, grasping her hair and cloths, slowing her down. She kicked, she slapped, and she screamed. Behind her, the owl morphed more. It flew closer to the ground as its wings stretched, forming limbs. Its legs bent and twisted, letting out unnatural cracks as they grew. It marched over to her, grabbing her out of the branches by her hair and pulling her to the ground. Her back hit hard, knocking the wind form her lungs.

She gasped for air as she looked up at its face, its lifeless eyes staring down at her. “Let me go,” She wheezed, grasping at its fingers to pry them off her hair. She began to kick and writhe her whole body, fighting with every ounce of strength she had, but it was too strong. Its face contorted, cheekbones pushing in odd angles, its nose bending and stretching. She tried to scream again, but it struck her before she could let it out.

“I told you what would happen if you tried to leave me,” It shrieked, picking her up by the hair and slamming her against a tree. “I loved you!”

Her head cracked against the log as her body struck the tree. “Please,” her voice was tiny, shaking with utter defeat and terror. “Please, I am not your daughter. She’s dead! I just want to go home.” Tears streamed her cheeks as she spoke, her fingers still clawing at its hands. She dug her nails in hard, trying to make it let her go.

It raised its hand high in the air, bringing it down hard and fast. The slap echoed in the trees as she let out a moan of pain. “I gave you a good home,” It shook its head and growled at her. “I begged you never to make me do this.”

With a quick gleam of metal, it pressed a knife to her throat, the blade piercing skin and drawing blood. It leaned in and whispered, “I just wanted you back. I wanted you to be perfect, just like she was. Why did you have to hurt me like this?”

She let out a gasp as it drew the knife across her throat, blood spilling down her shirt and onto the grass she once thought was freedom. She looked at it one last time, the old man who took her from her childhood seen so clearly in the owl. It did not bring her a good omen; in fact, it brought her the darkest omen one could find.

It brought her an omen of death.

She slid to the ground and held her throat, searching frantically for a way to save herself as she felt the life drain from her body. How did this happen? She did everything perfectly. She prepared for months. She made him believe she loved him, that she would never leave. She gained his trust and told him she was his daughter. He started leaving the basement door unlocked for her. She put bacon grease on the hinges while he wasn’t looking. She learned all his secrets and weaknesses. She even slipped extra medication for his Insomnia into his tea.

All she wanted was to go home, to feel the freedom of fresh air on her skin once again.

The owl had left the old man and watched on a branch as she slipped away, staring at her with those dead eyes. The bad omen scared her even more than the old man did. She took one last shaky breath as her eyes closed. It flew away.