Barn Owl

Sherman Dill was sentenced to 12 months as an inpatient of the criminally insane ward, in the Greenfield Mental Hospital. This was for his first offense resulting from his arrest on his seventeenth birthday. He was driven straight from the courthouse to the hospital two states away. He was not permitted to say goodbye to his family, nor pack any of his belongings. Upon arrival, even though heavily sedated, Sherman took in every visible detail possible about the facility. On the drive up the long lane leading to the large facility, he took mental note that there were three other smaller buildings behind the main building. The hospital seemed to be four stories high but only the top three floors had bars on the windows.

He was removed from the van by two large men he assumed were orderlies. As they brought him through the side door of the building, Sherman estimated the tree line was maybe three hundred yards away. He drooled all over the shoulder of the man who dragged him into what looked like a principal's office. The older woman with grey hair pinned on top of her head introduced herself “Sherman Dill, I am Harriet Wane, the director here. You have become our responsibility now and we will advocate for you during your rehabilitation plan. Gene here will take you to your dorm and tomorrow we will review your practices and daily routine. Dinner will be brought to you tonight. We welcome you” and she flicked her hand in the air as if to say take him away. He wanted to flip the old hag the bird but he could barely keep his head up. As he dropped onto the poor excuse for a bed, with the loud creak of old springs, Sherman let himself sleep off the sedative.

The ridiculously annoying bell ringing in the hall woke him at 5:45 am. Getting out of bed seemed like too big of a task for him to accomplish, but the foggy thought process seemed to subside. He decided they must have sedated him again instead of giving him dinner as was promised. The room was as plain as a jail cell. Nothing but simple furnishings that were bolted to the floors and walls. His single window was smaller than a mailbox and was covered in wire mesh. Hearing the lock on his door being released, Sherman turned his head to see Gene entering his room with a wheelchair. “What the hell, Gene?” he tried to sound mature. Gene just shook his head and pulled him into the wheelchair. “Look kid, you are better off just keeping your mouth shut. Everything gets marked down in records here, so make my job easy and shut up.” Gene wheeled him down a long hall with the same doors on each side. At the end of the hall they entered an elevator and Gene pressed the B button. The numbers above the door lit up from three so Sherman knew he was on the third floor. The B Button meant basement, “Why would he be going to the basement?” he wondered. As the doors opened to the basement level, he was shocked to see a dark hall, lit only by red lights hanging from the walls. It looked more like a catacomb than an actual hallway. It was cold and had an awful odor. “I guess I'm not going to the cafe for breakfast?” he joked. Gene just grunted and pushed the wheelchair to the second door on the left. He slapped Sherman on the back and said “Good luck kid” before turning back to the elevator.

The door opened abruptly and a man with no hair and glasses, wearing a lab coat, said “My name is Dr. Sneed and you will be in my care the remainder of the day. If you need anything you may ask but otherwise please do not speak unless I ask you to.” Dr. Sneed pulled the wheelchair into a small exam room with a chair in front of a monitor to the left, and a small table to the right. A syringe with a yellow liquid sat on the small table next to an alcohol pad. “Stay here for a moment. I will return shortly.” The man said as he left the room. “Where can I go if I can't move?” Sherman said to himself as the door shut behind him.

Sherman spent the next 20 minutes planning an escape in his mind. This wasn’t a movie, it wouldn’t be easy. When Dr. Sneed returned with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast, Sherman’s stomach growled. “If you complete your first practice without trouble Sherman, I will give you the reversal for your sedative so that you may feed yourself. This monitor is equipped to track your responses. I will leave the room after I start the program. Answer the questions honestly and I will return to allow you your meal.” Sherman shook his head as the elder doctor prepared the screen. After the door was shut the monitor came to life with a young woman asking Sherman to remain calm and answer as honestly as possible.

The questions seemed very generic and boring but he did the best he could while starving and smelling the food on the table. Dr. Sneed returned and while preparing to give Sherman the injection said "the next session will be more intense but as I'm sure you are distracted, I'll let you eat first." After the quick shot, Sherman realized this was his chance at escape. As the doctor left the room again, Sherman started to slowly be able to feed himself. Not knowing how long the doctor would be gone he tried to eat quickly so he could get ready to break free. When the door to the exam room opened again, Sherman was ready. He quickly attacked Dr. Sneed and with a rear choke, put the doctor to sleep. As he slipped out the door, Sherman turned right and ran to the elevator. Hitting the button for the ground floor, he tried to formulate a plan. As the elevator door opened, Sherman checked quickly to make sure the coast was clear. He bolted for the side door and escaped into the sunlight. He took off running for the woods as fast as he could.

It didn't take long to get into the woods and out of sight from the facility. He was sure Dr. Sneed would be awakening soon and sound the alarm that he had escaped. He had to keep moving. Not caring for anything but freedom, Sherman pushed himself to keep running. In his haste, he misjudged jumping over a fallen tree and rolled his ankle. He sat for a few minutes to catch his breath and strained to hear any alarms in the distance. Picking up a long branch, he used it as a stabilizer so he could continue on. After what seemed like forever, the forest gave way to an open field. The sky had turned a dark, ominous grey and the temperature dropped a number of degrees. Hobbling through the field, Sherman could see a structure ahead.

The abandoned, decrepit barn was burned from a previous fire. Burned down so long ago it had more missing wood planks than intact ones. You could see the sky through most of the roof. The collapsed loft almost kept the big wooden doors from possibly opening. But with a good hearted tug, he pulled one door open and peeked inside. It would give him a place to rest even if the smell of the old, putred hay caused him to sneeze. The critters living inside would have to share if he wanted to recover from his ankle injury and wait out the storm that was quickly approaching. He stumbled into the damp, chilly barn and looked around at the stall walls. As he found the first stall open, he lowered himself onto an old blanket bundled on the floor. He tried to raise his ankle higher than his heart as he laid back onto the floor. The old bucket gave him just enough raise to hopefully reduce the swelling. The thunder heard in the distance was getting louder, the storm was getting closer. As the first few rain drops fell through the partial roof, he shivered and tried to cover himself with the blanket. When the first bolt of lightning lit up the sky, he spotted another tattered blanket across the stall floor. He made himself a little bed,and raised the bucket higher on two pieces of wood. He had been on the move all day and felt extremely tired now as well as in pain. As he slowly started to drift off to sleep he watched a large shadow pass above him more than once during the flashes from the storm. Figuring the old owl was searching for field mice, he let himself close his eyes to get some much needed rest.

Sherman woke with the sun blinding him, shining right through the roof of the barn. The swelling on his ankle hadn't gotten any worse and actually felt maybe just a little better. He glanced around and saw the big brown owl resting on the barn beam of the ceiling. He couldn't recall hearing the owl at all last night but had seen its massive wing span as it flew above him multiple times. The owl was sleeping now but it's incredible size shocked Sherman. He had never seen one so close in person, only in movies or on tv. But the majestic animal took his breath away. He wondered if the animal stayed in the barn every night, he didn't know if this bird of prey made a nest or not. At least he hadn't seen any bats. Bats were foul creatures. He should never have been sent away to that stupid prison anyway. He had not committed any crime, but the judge never believed him.

Not paying attention to his surroundings, Sherman only heard the truck engine as it pulled up to the shed. They were right outside. He wasn't going to be able to get away quick enough. The barn door yanked open and all Sherman could do was watch in horror as Gene stood in the open doorway with shackles in his hand. "You shouldn't have done that kid. You will be sorry now." Gene said as he picked Sherman up off the ground and shackled him. The syringe was injected right into his neck. The last thing Sherman saw before passing out, was the owl in the rafters.