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Author Topic: Prompt 1: An Autobiography of An Owl  (Read 3608 times)

Mavis Lerner

    (04/23/2016 at 01:56)
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Some days I remember living in the place where there were so birds like me, and they all screeched and flew around and they never stayed for long.

Then the one with flowers gives me toast and I don't think about it anymore.

I didn't meet the one with flowers first, I met pale one. I remember sitting on a perch, I remember feeling bored (I also recall Boris and Crow screeching at each other over a dead mouse, and it was a very annoying scene.) The pale one smiled at me, and he talked to me. He asked me if I was a nice bird (I said yes, but I was very rudely interrupted by the smiling one.) The smiling one said something else, and the pale one patted my head.

I liked the pale one. For some reason, I liked him.

But he put my in a prison, and the world was fragmented with bars, and he took me away from the darkness, the screeching, and into a new world. It was so bright, so much noise, and so many big things walking around in their almost repulsively bright world.

I was mortified. For some time I felt that my fate would be nothing an owl should ever have to endure, that I would be locked in this cage forever, unable to spread by wings, unable to soar. I had resigned myself to the bars and the cramped space, sitting with the pale one. He brought me up a flight of stairs, and I thought nothing of it.

I think I was told of it once, the funny little thing called love. Someone told me about it, but I don't recall thinking it ever really exist. As I found out that day, love is a thing that exists, and it is very strange, but very powerful.

I liked the pale one, but when I saw the one with flowers I felt something, something strange and new, and oddly exciting. She smiled at me, and I wanted to stay with her forever. She let me out of the cage and let me wander free, and it wasn't for some time that I remembered that word, love, that mythical thing that was very much real, and I felt it for the one with flowers.

She took me with her to a new place without the pale one and the one with four eyes, and I enjoyed the new place. I made some friends with the other owls (I saw Boris again, what a small world it is.) The one with flowers asked me to deliver letters for her, and I didn't mind. I got to fly, I got to see a lot of places, and I visited the pale one, and the one with glasses all the time. The one with flowers talked to me like I was a big one, and we were even better friends then Boris and I came to be.

Once or twice I've heard her cry and it scares me, more then the cage ever did. For someone who smiles so much, who likes things like flowers and the sky and me, a simple barn owl with an odd name, she should not be crying. But I've seen her cry. And I've seen her wake up terrified. I've seen this too many times, and now that is my greatest fear, not the cage.

But when she smiles I remember that it will be alright, and she will not be scared all the time, and when she gives me little flower crowns I wish my beak would stretch so I could smile at her, and when she shows me the letters she values so much, I remember that whatever haunts her in her head can leave, and that as I put the letter in my beak, or wear the little flower crown, I am helping her drive the bad things away.

I am an owl. I am a friend. I am a good little bird, just like the one with flowers tells me I am. And I think... that I believe her.

Wait. Is that toast I smell?
you belong among the wildflowers
you belong somewhere you feel free

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