Something Dark is Coming

My cousin Thrasher was a mischievous thing. He was always riding along the curbside of malice. If he saw a rock; he had to pick it up and throw it. If he saw a stick, he had to pick it up and break it. If ever he saw a bird’s nest out on a limb…that’s right, he had to find a way to shake it. Our summers were always spent together. His mom and my mom were identical twins, so we weren’t just any cousins, we were first cousins!

On one adventurously typical summer day of; running and walking the mile long roads from one side of town to the next; playing tirelessly, ringing doorbells and knocking on doors, then running some more. That particular day we saw a discarded mattress on the grass over by a dumpster at an apartment complex. Our eyes lit up with excitement. Thrasher took off full sprint as he sprung into the air on the spring-ridden mattress into a back flip with a 180 degree twist! I too joined in on the fun, but all I could muster was a horizontal split in the air.

The highlight of our day, or so we thought, was spent at the laundr-o-mat on the corner; spending every copper stained and cloudy quarter in our pockets on snacks and arcade games like Ms. Pac Man, Donkey Kong, and Galaga; for a shot to rank among the highest scores for a chance to enter those three winning initials. It was the ultimate pinnacle of achievement!

We headed out as the sun began to set and the street lights were illuminating. That smoldering summer evening we arrived at the house to find a hand written note on the fridge hanging on by a Coca-Cola bottle magnet.

“Heading out for a little while, be back in a few hours. Dinner is on the stove. Lock the door and PLEASE behave!”

The house was old and made of termite infested wood. It had a large front window; overlooking the porch. On the porch sat a wooden two-seater swing that hung from its ceiling by rusted chains and chipping white paint that looked like the ashes hanging from a burning cigarette.

The porch light was always out and I didn’t mind that much because the bulb was encased by a dull, yellowish-white glass that had the remains of dead insects that were trapped inside and probably burned to death.

The house sat next to acres of grass in a large open field; separated by a fence of thin barbed wire. Further out beyond the house stood a barely standing barn of sorts. Along with a pale skeleton of what used to be a truck that looked as if it were made in the 1950’s. The truck had oval-shaped dynamics, big wheels, and a big hump in its nose. Alongside the truck were barrels of hay; oh yeah, there were also two brown horses; Coa-Coa whose mane was brown and Bean, whose mane was silky black.

Inside the house you would find a floor model color television; peeling counter tops, floral printed crush velvet furniture, a china cabinet, a wooden dining table a covered by a large napkin, faded wall paper and every corner of the house filled with this white powdery substance. On the box it read, Boric Acid. We had a rat problem; well technically they were mice, but they sure seemed like rats to me! One day, I looked up and saw one on the panel that sits just above a door. I think the acid gave them super powers instead of poisoning them to their demise, but then again, I could have been dreaming. I always had weird dreams and nightmares at that age, but I’ll tell you about those some other time.

We’d warmed and eaten our dinner, watched every show on the television, and played every game cartridge owned and rented for Nintendo. We watched BET and learned the latest dance moves, we turned on MTV to listen to the latest Cindy Lopper, time after time. As the hours past we grew restless.

“Let’s go back outside”, Thrasher said.

“Okay, let’s go!”

Thrasher shot out of the house without any hesitation; leaving the screen door to slam behind him as he heads straight towards the front yard. Like most young adults, we knew better than to leave the proximity of the house at nighttime; our parents would kill us both. When I stepped out onto the porch the moon was high and bright like the fireworks on the 4th of July; although, on the porch where I stood there was hardly any light.

Intuitively, I slowly turned around and there they were; these icicle eyes, under the pale moonlight piercing through the black darkness; glowing, growing larger in diameter. I was scared-to-death! Frantically, I ran back inside the house, having not one single notion to call out to my cousin.

Instinctively, like muscle memory, trying to ward off and kill other unwanted, much tinier species I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the broom. Still inside the house, I began banging it into a corner of the ceiling in the area where I saw this thing; with hopes of scaring it away.

After a few rounds, I dropped the broom and ran to the window; peeking sharp right. I couldn’t really tell if it was still there or not, so I looked away and searched the yard for Thrasher, to warn him…to save me! I began to bang on the window desperate to get his attention. It was ‘that’ scene in the movie where the speed is slowed down to .3x resolution like a setting on an Instagram reel.

My fist sounded off as a hollow thud. My voice an aesthetically silent yawn wrong-side-out, sounding off to the equivalence of watching a movie on mute. Hopeless and afraid of what might become of him, I knew I had to think quickly. I abandoned my post and clumsily stumbled my way to the single-pole switch (okay, light switch). Switching OFF then ON, OFF and back ON again.

I raced back to the window; drapes swung open. Certain the blinking of the lights on and off would appear in his peripheral sight. I arrived at the window just in time to witness him standing there seemingly bewildered. I began to point in the direction of the porch where I saw whatever it was; my two-his ten. He began inching closer to the house, our fists clinching in the same moment.

My hands were empty, but in his hand he clinched a firm stick he had just moments before been hitting against a tree breaking off bark and watching it fall. When he was within range, he took the stick and threw it towards the porch. I watched as it flipped through the air like a knife. I heard a thud and a loud cry. He’d hit it!

Thrasher yelled out to me, “Quick, come take a look at this.”

I hesitantly opened the door, unsure of how safe it was to come outside, I left the screen door shut to find it was just lying there, wounded on the nether of the porch. Had it not been for Thrasher poking and prodding with the stick and its squirming reflexes I might have thought it was dead.

“Is it a bat?” I begged the question.

“No, it’s an owl; a baby owl.”

I stepped out onto the porch with feelings of regret, “So what are we going to do now? We can’t just leave it here.”

“Hell if I know! How would I know what to do with a baby owl?”

“Well you did it!”

“Well you didn’t stop me!”

Suddenly, the moon was eclipsed something large and screeching. It was dreadfully loud with the sound of anything but music. In its vocal chords were anger, passion, and sorrow; it was heart-breaking. Within seconds, it was upon us. Its talons, hard and heavy cracked the foundation of the rotted porch. The wings lifted up, then out, crashing into the window where I earlier stood petrified over an owlet, who now lye there with somber cries; screeching and flailing at my feet.

I couldn’t move, as I saw it slowly approaching; every step more terrifying than the one before. No more than a nose hair away from my face I gazed at our reflection through its eyes. I could feel each breathe like a heavy and strong wind passing through her acute beak and nostrils.

Courage escaped Thrasher, as a soul would leave within the last breath. As we stood on the porch paralyzed by fear, suddenly; a sort of calmness overcame me. Off in the field, just above its head I saw a rising light and what appeared to be an archaic stone structure set off in ancient Greek times.

Then a voice softly uttered,

“I am Minerva, guardian of the owls, guardian of this owl”, gently tilting her beak towards our feet.

“I am the Goddess of war; defensive war.”

She turns her head towards me and says, “You are wise, and you should not be afraid; for even I can smell the mice.”

“You are a warrior”, she said shifting her focus to Thrasher. “Yet, your guidance is misplaced.”

“The humans have overtime become relentless hunters and every animal their prey. It is the humans that should be feared. Humans kill and maim for sport. They kill for unnecessary reasons; pride, glory, ego; fashion; endangering species of all kinds all over the world.”

“There is something that humans should know. A war is coming. Every animal species has donned an alpha male and female. Gigantism alphas; every sense heightened, superior strength, speed, intelligence, and agility. The alpha commands all!”

“Something dark is coming, if the humans do not change their mutilating and endangering way. Alphas will breed more alphas and we will shatter the skies and scorch this earth. As apex predators, we will feed on and drive out the human race; inevitability the coming of the newly endangered species; humans.”

She gently backed up, cradled the owlet in her talons and flew away gracefully.

I let out a loud sigh as if I’d been holding my breath underwater just moments before drowning and had come up for air. As I slowly turned to look at Thrasher, I witnessed as the tears were streaming down the sides of his face. As he sobbed, I felt a strong urge to grab him and hold him in my arms tight as I too began to cry. He was trembling. I could feel the tenseness in his shoulders start to lower as he began to let go of his guilt; not just for what he’d done that night, but for everything malicious he’d ever done.

We explained away the window to our parents with a lie and how the baseball slipped through my glove while playing a game of catch in the dark while on a dare. Thrasher and I remained very close cousins throughout the years, but we never spoke of that night—to anyone.

Shortly after graduating college and both of us earning degrees in Field Biology & Wildlife Conservation, we founded a non-profit organization for endangered species and trademarked it under the name Athena; our company logo, the Barnyard Owl.