Raw

She perched alone in the corner of the shop in an enclosure barely big enough to stretch what passed for wings. Surrounded by dusty objects that would never be purchased, although occasionally people did come in and examine them. When a human would buy something – usually from the front of the store – it would animate the one who had been her captor for so long though it didn’t make her life any better. Every now and then, someone would come across her cage with curiosity, recoil with horror, and make haste to the other side of the room, shaking their head. She knew she was hideous. Naked skin covered with scabs and stubs where her vile feathers kept growing. All she knew was she had to keep getting rid of them when they started to grow too long. They whispered of worlds she knew were imaginary, dreams of flying intruding with rude intent echoing in the dark. Sometimes when the big door opened, she felt the breeze pinch her skin, and wild pain stirred primeval tremors in her depths.

This life was all she had ever known or could remember. Memories of being covered in soft, comforting fluff seem like a lifetime away. Another human with long hair and a soft voice used to be there, and she remembered she used to feed her tasty food with fur and bone. Was that even a real memory or a fantasy? The room too used to be brighter and more colourful, she was sure, although that too seems as if it wasn’t possible now. One day they never came back, and there was only the comfort of suffering from then on.

She disgusted herself. Her existence was an affront to reality, the thought of even being of import to anyone far from her mind. So she barely existed, flagellating at her body for reasons beyond her comprehension, while her guts churned and ached with the sparse food she was given. It was all she deserved. Perhaps for a crime, no one could ever say. Occupation? Definitely – what else was there to do? Though she wouldn’t ever admit it, there was some pleasure in it too. The familiarity of hurt and the agency it gave her triggered some chemical that was somehow the antithesis of the action.

The one with the hooked nose that made her own beak harmless in comparison fed her raw meat every now and then, which kept her in life if you could call it that. He seldom cleaned out the mess at the bottom of her cage, usually throwing sand over it when it got too much. She used to attack him in the previous days, but now she barely had the energy to look up when he approached. Once, he had left the door open, but even though the inner voices called her to go, her fear overwhelmed them easily, and she knew that this was her place.

Then one day, a strange thing happened. A human who had hair like the one who had been kind to her a long time ago came into the shop. She seemed to have business there, but she also had with her another. Male or female, she couldn’t say, but they didn’t look away in horror when they approached the bars. In fact, they had a different gaze. A softness. She momentarily allowed herself a curiosity and opened one eye larger than would normally be the case. Rapidly came the feeling that this wouldn’t last. Not to get attached. They didn’t run away but slowly went back to the others, all the while glancing back at her. A bustle of animated noises came, then the hook-nosed human made a shape with his face she hadn’t seen before. Then they went away as everything went back to normal.

Sometime later, an even stranger event occurred. The soft one returned with a larger one and excitedly pointed at her cage. A great fear suddenly grasped her. Was this the end? Slowly they picked up her large impound and started moving it towards the big door. She felt like she was going to keel over with fright, and as they got towards the light, she began to shiver, not only with the unknown but also the fact that the air was a lot more animated over here. The soft one kept speaking gentle words to her, which helped a little, but then they put her down. Even though she felt it must be over now, she managed a peak out at new vistas wondering at the walls and movement outside. Then suddenly everything went dark. Not as the nadir of night but more like when the human went home in the middle of the day sometimes.

Suddenly they were moving again. It seemed very bright and noisy out there, and if she had had anything in her stomach, she would have brought it up, she was sure. Then a bang as her pen stopped moving! Sitting on the floor petrified, a light blinded her momentarily as the eyes of the soft one looked in and made those noises that reminded her soul of some history. Then they were gone again, and now there was the most extraordinary din that roared as everything shook and rattled. She felt all she could do now was close her eyes and hope for death. It didn’t come. The racket stopped eventually, and the eyes returned.

“Look,” the soft one said, “this is your new home now!”

Eyes that had only been used to squalid dusk were in no condition to take in what was being asked of her, but she was aware of extraordinary colours that her senses could barely process. Greens and blues were shades that were unfamiliar. Soon the prison was placed down on the ground, and a known darkness returned. The sheet that had been over here was lifted away, and she could see that she was in another room. It looked like her bars had been set inside a bigger cage that was itself inside this new room. The small door was opened by the soft one. A sumptuous petite carcass was placed in front of her. She felt she must be losing her mind.

“I’ll leave for now,” they said, “but I’ll be back soon. Eat up, please.”

She found herself alone again. This time a very different solitude. Unable to resist any longer, she swallowed her meal, and it was the most amazing feeling ever. Confusion and guilt at feeling pleasure swirled with memories of the one who used to feed her such treats. She looked around and realised that it was a very bare room with straw all over the floor. Large rafters overhead poked at ancestral heritage combating experience. This can’t be true; it can’t last.

The soft one returned.

“You haven’t come out yet,” they said and reached in to her. Instinctively she bit with what little strength she had. Recoiling with sharp reflex, they gave a different look to her. Now she knew it wouldn’t last. They had seen what a vile and wretched creature she was. She could relax into those feelings of self-loathing again now as penance for solid crime. Confusion was added to when they said,

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. You need a lot of time to adjust but know the cage is open, and you can come out.”

They backed away and simply watched her as night began to fall. There was a small artificial light from a heater in the corner, but otherwise, it was quite dark. Not the empty, deathly blackness in the other place, but an unspoken familiarity. She suddenly got the fright of her life when she heard a noise she had never heard before. From the rooftops, a hoot! Eyes opened wide with the sound of her kind filling with an energy never known. She tried to call back, but it had been such a long time since she had made any sound except a hiss it came out all mangled. She was filled with shame at her inability to communicate.

Then the soft one said, “It’s okay. You can try again. They are Barn owls like you.”

Extraordinary! How could she be a Barn Owl? She was a mangled, hideous creature, not something free and magnificent. Memories came suddenly flooding back of being shown pictures in a book by the long-haired one. Until now, she never understood that they were trying to tell she belonged to that tribe. That she wasn’t the dishevelled animal so long assumed. Now hope kindled in her heart and couldn’t be easily quenched though the voices of conditioning raged against them. Here began the campaign against the darkness that had shackled her spirit for so long.

It wasn’t a quick skirmish. It never can be when our actualising tendency comes against the words and actions of those we depended on for our existence. Those have told us we were worthless or could only be shame-free if we act a certain way - against our nature. When we meet a rare soul that values our individuality and holds us to no value except our own innate beauty, the shock can be overwhelming. It takes much work, but we can make it through the hard winter learning to believe those who affirm us. Learning to believe in ourselves.

So it was with Ayla - for that was the name on her head now. The soft one and her companions had treated her with love through the cold nights as her feathers had begun to grow back, and she had learned to love the wide space of the barn. The day she had slept outside the old prison felt like a milestone as she had never ventured there before. The day too, the bigger one had dragged that metal monstrosity out to never be seen again sent a shiver down her spine, but in a good way. She learnt to use her voice and begin to understand some of what the other owls were trying to say and trusted the soft one enough to sit on their arm and even let her skin be stroked. One spring evening, she was perched on their arm when they said,

“Now is the time,” as they started towards the large doors. Deep breaths. Wide eyes. Not this time a terrifying fear that tumbled inside her but the dawning of a new promise.