04-13-2016, 04:47 PM
The owl continued speaking in a roundabout way, leaving my questions only partially answered, however he had relinquished his name and species. I could picture it in her mind, using fragments of old memories and my own imagination, yet though the picture a large brown owl, with tawny wings, bright yellow eyes with pupils like daggers, came naturally, I could not see the picture clearly in my mind’s eye. I willed it to form in the black darkness that I would surely see for the rest of my life, yet only in the back of my head could I truly imagine, mainly out of instinct, what an owl looked like.
I remembered, and paired it to what information my senses gathered to construct a three dimensional view inside my mind. I didn’t have super senses, I didn’t have super hearing, however I could hear the soft glide of its wings as it descended downward to eye-level in front of me.
It sounded like he was a large owl, on the side of two or three feet tall. Large muscular wings, soft feathers, I still kept in mind the color I could no longer see, since nothing about the owl struck me as old or graying.
“Are you... Well? Whoo- Whoo,” the voice asked softly.
Good question, I thought, “Well enough to stand,” I spoke confidently as strength began to pour into my veins once more, solidified by a freshly sound composure.
“Oh good then, you’ll tell me why you were knocking on my tree?” the owl, and I imagined, was gazing at my fiercely, the tones of his voice warped a bit at the end, and I contemplated that if owls could tilt there heads forty-five degrees, this one’s head was at ninety. “Do you... Have business with me or my tree?”
There was a slight ringing in his voice, as though he was set to a tune, his sentences always ended with a coo, but only if they didn’t rhyme or ask a question. He was, perhaps, a character from a fairy tale. Perhaps.
“No...” I started, my voice was a little hoarse as I tried to lie, “I just uh...” I didn’t really have a good excuse for punching a tree, at least, not one that would make sense to an owl, “Hey, tell me about the scenery around here.”
“Play the ol’ switcheroo, did you?” the owl hooted before chiming in, “Alright, I’ll play along, with you. There’s trees over on this side, the left side of the road, and then off to the right, a large meadow that expands beyond it, but that, I’m sure, you can see with your eyes. Hmmm, let us see, let us see, when you venture deeper into the forest, there are elves, lions, and oh! If you go into the villages, be careful of the hooded men! They do not want to sell you peace, but war within yourself!”
“What, what do you mean? What hooded men?” My voice grew concerned.
“Those that sell pieces of peace, it is an illusion, no, a hallucination...” The owl corrected, “Whoo-whoo.”
“Sounds like you’re talking about drugs...” said my own deductive phone.
“However I do not recommend you go to the forest, if you do not speak the language of the trees, you’ll surely get lost, and hunted by the predators. I knew once, a girl, a bit of a dunce, who stumbled upon a village of ninjas, and well, after that, she didn’t stumble on anything anymore.” the owl let out a small, sad whimper, “Who-who...”
I remembered, and paired it to what information my senses gathered to construct a three dimensional view inside my mind. I didn’t have super senses, I didn’t have super hearing, however I could hear the soft glide of its wings as it descended downward to eye-level in front of me.
It sounded like he was a large owl, on the side of two or three feet tall. Large muscular wings, soft feathers, I still kept in mind the color I could no longer see, since nothing about the owl struck me as old or graying.
“Are you... Well? Whoo- Whoo,” the voice asked softly.
Good question, I thought, “Well enough to stand,” I spoke confidently as strength began to pour into my veins once more, solidified by a freshly sound composure.
“Oh good then, you’ll tell me why you were knocking on my tree?” the owl, and I imagined, was gazing at my fiercely, the tones of his voice warped a bit at the end, and I contemplated that if owls could tilt there heads forty-five degrees, this one’s head was at ninety. “Do you... Have business with me or my tree?”
There was a slight ringing in his voice, as though he was set to a tune, his sentences always ended with a coo, but only if they didn’t rhyme or ask a question. He was, perhaps, a character from a fairy tale. Perhaps.
“No...” I started, my voice was a little hoarse as I tried to lie, “I just uh...” I didn’t really have a good excuse for punching a tree, at least, not one that would make sense to an owl, “Hey, tell me about the scenery around here.”
“Play the ol’ switcheroo, did you?” the owl hooted before chiming in, “Alright, I’ll play along, with you. There’s trees over on this side, the left side of the road, and then off to the right, a large meadow that expands beyond it, but that, I’m sure, you can see with your eyes. Hmmm, let us see, let us see, when you venture deeper into the forest, there are elves, lions, and oh! If you go into the villages, be careful of the hooded men! They do not want to sell you peace, but war within yourself!”
“What, what do you mean? What hooded men?” My voice grew concerned.
“Those that sell pieces of peace, it is an illusion, no, a hallucination...” The owl corrected, “Whoo-whoo.”
“Sounds like you’re talking about drugs...” said my own deductive phone.
“However I do not recommend you go to the forest, if you do not speak the language of the trees, you’ll surely get lost, and hunted by the predators. I knew once, a girl, a bit of a dunce, who stumbled upon a village of ninjas, and well, after that, she didn’t stumble on anything anymore.” the owl let out a small, sad whimper, “Who-who...”