Two night owls- Short story

Last night started out bleak. I was tossing and turning and counting the sheep. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last. The clock struck midnight and time was passing fast. “A cup of tea,” of course. I knew the caffeine wouldn’t help. Inside, I screamed, but all I did was let out a welp. You see, night times were the times of inspiration and promise. The stars were shining, and at the midnight hour, my emotions were the most honest. I gave up and accepted creative defeat. The barn called me, and I had a painting to complete. I climbed into my slippers and rolled on my dressing gown and headed next door, to the place where I expressed all my ups and downs. I tied my long blonde hair into a bun and set out on my way for some creative fun.

The bats were out in solitude as the moonlight grazed the grass fields, highlighting their food. I remember the cold frost approaching over the distance, I felt the hesitation in me and my body’s resistance. I needed to sleep, but how? I when the inspiration ran too deep? I was never built for 9–5 living, when the nocturnal creature that is me was unforgiving. I knew I’d be tired when my alarm would awake me from my slumbers, “screw the system! it’s nothing but words and numbers”. My creativity was real, my art was my expression, and the paintings and colours knew me without question. The barn was my emotional outlet, where I had spent many nights. My emotions were part of the woodwork, and my energy was embedded in the lights. I headed through the barn door and let out a shiver. There were holes in the roof, so the cold flooded in like a river. I threw a load of wood onto the log burner and hoped for the best. After about 10 minutes of waiting, the flames began, and with that light came a glimpse of an intriguing guest.

Our guest was white with brown wings. Its yellow eyes reflecting with the flames, it had a half-eaten mouse in front of him, from his hunting games. It was a barn owl, so alert and full of patience. We both looked at each other curiously. It seemed unbothered by my presence. It had found a home in the corner of my old bookcase. The doors had fallen off. It was on my list to be restored, but I was having trouble finding time due to the whole rat-race. “What should I call you?” I whispered into the dark space, “My name is Mary. It’s okay, you are safe. ” Then an opportunity hit me. I had a volunteer from whom I would draw. It would be like my life-drawing classes, except this model lived by nature’s law. I scurried around, and gathered my pencils. The night had delivered me so much potential. I set up my easel with fresh paper on display, and began drawing that magnificent creature. I didn’t want the moment to drift away.

I sketched the outline of its brown wings and a thought crossed my mind. Was the creature alone or did it live with its kind? Would more arrive? Their hunt would be over soon, as we wave our goodbyes to the twilight moon. It’s curious how we project our own instincts onto other creatures. Do they need love or warmth? Are they hungry? I guess we are always learning because nature will always be our greatest teacher. The owl became my inspiration, and it didn’t even know, how its appearance activated my creative flow. Its brown, beautiful wings and a pure white head and chest, with reflective eyes and an ivory-coloured beak, nestle beautifully in my creative nest. My home will always be yours as we share this planet together, because these moments are worth a thousand treasures. My eyes watched in awe as it devoured its prey. I wasn’t bothered that it was moving. I’m just glad it didn’t fly away. After 3 hours of silence and utter concentration, the drawing was complete, I turned and showed it the image, and it jumped full stretch to its feet. I thought it was out of please. I guess I was a bit forthcoming and put the little creature at unease. “It’s okay, I just wanted you to see. How beautiful you are to me. We have more in common than you think. We are both night owls, and our body clocks are probably quite in sync. I’ll leave this image here because we both need to rest, and if you are here tomorrow, then I’ll be truly blessed. ” I left the art on the easel, leaving the barn beaming with glee at how this little owl drew such happiness from me. Just one interaction can widen your view as the magic of life can appear, out of the blue. I made my way to bed, no longer worried about sleep, as the relaxation in my veins ran so deep. I had 5 hours until my alarm chimes. That’s plenty of time, because the memories will be embedded in the melodies of rhyme.

About TheDarkestFairytale

Hello Thank you for reading. If you would like to contact me please email thedarkest-fairytale@hotmail.com
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5 Responses to Two night owls- Short story

  1. Raven says:

    Reblogged this on About the Jez of It and commented:
    A fabulous read with my tea – thank you

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Tom says:

    Beautiful enchanting story on such a small but memorable meeting – the first-person POV really pulls the reader in! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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