Many Different Meanings

Tyler tried to regulate his breathing as he hid behind the old truck that was located inside of a creaking, old shed.

Craning his neck to one side, he slowly attempted to see if he had been followed. His heart beat loudly in his chest before he fell back down into a crouched position, butterflies swarming his stomach when he saw nobody there.

The machete-wielding killer was nowhere to be seen.

How did his day get so bad?

He had been traveling solo across the country when he got a flat up the road. Phone dead, Tyler shouted in frustration when he pulled over. Hitting the steering wheel, he leaned his head back before he practically threw open the door in order to examine the damage.

“Yep, that’s a flat alright,” he acknowledged with a heavy sigh. Rubbing his forehead, he looked around, hoping to spot somebody before he made the decision to walk back to the town he had just left. He could hear the disapproving voice of his father now. How his venomous words would not only chew his ears off, but tear his self-esteem a new one as well, when they talked about him needing to put a spare in his car.

Kicking the tire, Tyler cursed loudly to himself before he made his way back to the front seat. Grabbing his wallet, keys and phone, he prepared himself for the long walk back when he saw a truck making its way towards him. Relieved, he raised his hands up, flagging the person down in order to end his nightmare.

Little did he know that it was just beginning.

The moment the man emerged from the truck, he was intent on killing him.

Noticing the machete in one of the man's hands, Tyler felt the blood drain from his face.

Putting his hands down slowly, he cleared his throat, his eyes darting from his-would-be-savior to the weapon. He voiced his confusion but the man never spoke; his wild eyes, on the other hand, did before a tiny smile pulled at a corner of his lips.

“Shit,” Tyler whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. Nothing happened for a few more seconds. They both just stared at one another as if sizing each other up. Swallowing hard, Tyler knew he had to get out of there. Fingers twitching, he quickly glanced around himself before bolting around his open car door and running down a small grassy hill.

The Machete Killer watched him do this before tilting his head, intrigued. Allowing Tyler to run into the nearby woods, the man continued to smile before closing his truck’s door and charging after him, his smile stretching at the prospect of another glorious hunt.

However, he too would soon find out that life was going to deal him an uneasy hand.

Light on his feet, Tyler had successfully managed to evade the guy all night, much to the frustration of the killer, who had struggled to gain any ground against him the entire time.

Breathing heavily, the younger man tried to calm his nerves, not wanting to attract the other with any kind of sound. Still crouched behind the old truck, Tyler tried not to react when he suddenly heard the tell-tale footsteps of the man he’s been hiding from—making his previous effort null and void.

Shit, shit, shit. He did follow me…

“Looks like I got you cornered,” the man announced, slightly out of breath. “I must say that you are by far the best prey I’ve ever hunted.”

Releasing a husky laugh, the killer stopped moving. Standing at the open entrance of the shed, his eyes wandered over the dark area. To the untrained eye, it would look as if nobody was inside, but judging by the tracks he had spotted a few yards back, he knew it to be otherwise.

Stretching his tight shoulder muscles with a roll, his machete made a couple swooshing sounds before he held it in a low, steady position. Eyeing the older truck, the man tilted his head again. “Despite the joy I felt earlier, I must admit that I’m quite tired and can’t wait until this whole thing is over. After all, there are more people to kill.”

Poised to strike, Tyler narrowed his eyes but remained silent.

The killer laughed again. He was about to take a step inside when he suddenly heard a disturbance on the roof of the shed. Leaning his head back, he quickly spied a familiar wing.

“Barn owls,” he announced, watching as a few more joined the first from the surrounding trees before returning his attention to the old truck. “Did you know that in certain cultures that they symbolize death? Fascinating, huh? It’s as if it’s fate. Your death is meant to be; it’s deemed so by the barn owls…

Tyler rolled his eyes. When the killer began to walk towards him, the victim carefully shuffled several steps back, his feet surprisingly muffled when he pivoted at the very end of the vehicle.

Listening, Tyler waited for any kind of movement when he spotted a discarded shovel over to his far right, an idea blossoming in his mind, but before he could act…the killer suddenly stopped and turned back around to walk away; as if in a trance or something.

Confused—but not relieved—Tyler took the opportunity to sneak over to the large object.

“Then again,” the man continued, his voice slightly fading away with every measured step. “In other cultures, these birds represent rebirth. Maybe…just maybe when you die tonight, you’ll come back as one of them. How fitting…”

“It won’t be me dying tonight,” Tyler answered, standing directly behind the man with his arms raised high above his head. The killer barely had the time to react before he was repeatedly struck hard in the forehead, each blow delving fatally deep.

“I guess the barn owl was meant for you, not me,” Tyler remarked, tiredly and sarcastically. “Let’s hope that your next life will be better for us prey.”

He took a moment to glance at one of the observing birds before running back to the road he had abandoned his car on. Limbs exhausted, he instead made his way over to the man’s truck and nearly cried out when he saw that the keys were still inside.

Slipping in, Tyler maneuvered the vehicle around and quickly made his way back to the town he had passed so many hours ago, not noticing that a barn owl was now flying alongside him.