John Kovalsky
Stories (1/0)
Common Ground
Awoken by a most frightening sound I turn over in bed and open my eyes. It’s what I imagined the banshees in my grandfather’s folk tales would sound like. I wonder if he sounded the shrieks of the nightmarish creatures as he passed on the stories to dad. Not knowing the sound of my grand dad’s voice, I try to imagine his accent. Did he try to hide it to fit into his new home? Again I hear the hisses and the screeches, this time closer than before. Out my window a flash of white swoops through the midnight black. Our local owls which frightened me as a child were considered noble by that man I never knew. The same one who built this home and fed so many mouths that have all moved on now. The swift white beacon circles around again. It draws me up and out of bed. It’s shriek sends shivers down my spine as it passes.
By John Kovalsky2 years ago in Fiction