The Owl and The Scaredy Cat

He’s a tall man, tousled brown hair and stern features. He’s dressed oddly considering the circumstances, a long sleeve white dress shirt that’s greying from repeated wear and has a slight tear in the upper left arm, the shirt is tucked into formal black dress trousers and covered by a beige waistcoat with a pair of cracked reading glasses tucked into the small pocket.

He’s an observer, standing on the pavement of a quiet street that likely hadn’t seen a living soul in years. Though he watches the husks of the former living shuffle into the shop across from him, they heard what he heard, the bang of the first gun shot. Since then five more shots have rung out and the man continues to watch, debating. The sun lowers ever so slightly in the sky and catches on something shiny on the floor, the man glances at the item. He picks it up and holds it, thumbing over the curves of the heart shaped locket. He’s tense now as he pries open the little door and his fear is realised when his photo looks back at him, a white haired male under his arm and both smiling softly into the lense. He squeezes the door shut in his palm, unflinching when the hinge pinches his skin, and slips the pendant into his pocket letting the chain hang out. He makes a decision then, what is the point in living your life when the one person you agreed and wanted to share your life with is missing or dead. This was the first sign of his lover in the three years he had been missing and he wasn’t going to ignore it.

He walks towards the husks, drawing a blade, he’s already prepared to die over what could potentially be nothing.. It might even be too late. He has the advantage, the walking decay are so focused on investigating the gunshots they don’t hear him coming He’s able to thin the herd before he reaches the door. The shop is dark and the floor is damp though with what is unclear… He pushes on, downing more of the husks in his wake, their soft decaying flesh clinging to his blade when it’s pulled back the smell almost unbearable. He manages to clear the entire small herd before he realises how much energy has drained from his body. He stumbles to the claw covered, blood soaked door.

Now the persistent drone of undead gargling has stopped; he can hear the sobs coming from inside. The sobs are desperate and are interrupted by loud sudden gasps of breath. The man knocks softly on the door. Nothing. He knocks hard. Again nothing. He grips the rounded door knob, a saving grace against the poorly dextrous enemy, and twists. The door gives, swinging open.

He stops, staring. The term ‘disbelief’ has never felt more accurate for him, the other male, the white hair male that was smiling in that heart-shaped locket in his pocket, was curled up in the corner of the small storage room. The white haired male has his hands, partially hidden but the long sleeves of his black hoodie and fingernails religiously painted black, over his ears pressing a flimsy pair of over head headphones tight against his ears. As the silence settles the faint sound of upbeat pop music can be heard by the observer, he steps closer, looking over the male in more detail; His white hair flecked with gunpowder and blood, his legs in black skinny jeans tucked close to his chest and held by his elbows and eyes that can barely be seen through the hair covering them, squeezed shut.

The observer kneels down carefully looking at the walkman CD player beside the male, he smiles softly as he looks at the oh so familiar stickers covering the device. Despite the modern technology they always had in their shared home, it still suffered many, many power cuts and the male had always been shaken in the dark, in the silence. For their 3 year anniversary the observer had bought him the battery powered music player as well as a sheet of stickers and a rotary powered torch.

The observer reaches out, pausing the music, the white haired male looks up quickly first with fear though it’s very quickly replaced with relief and recognition flooding his soft features and his eyes well up with tears as he throws himself into the arms of his saviour, his lover. Still sobbing but for a different reason. The male clings to the observer aggressively, becoming afraid that he’s merely a hallucination, he chokes on his breath and on his sobs mumbling out one word, our observer's obscure name… “Owl..”

The observer, Owl, holds him tightly. “My scaredy cat” he mumbles softly. “I missed you” Scaredy cat hiccups.

“I missed you too” Owl recoils a little, keeping one arm around him, he retrieves the heart-shaped locket from his pocket and holds it up to Scaredy cat who beams through his tears. “You found it… I.. I dropped it when I ran, I… I thought I'd lost it forever!” He gently holds the locket in his hand, prying open the little door and smiling softly at the picture. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I’d lost this.. Especially since… I thought you were gone.” Owl leans closer and kisses Scaredy cat softly, reassuring.

“Let’s get out of here, the city is dangerous… we’ll start again somewhere safe, just you and me” He stands first and offers his hand out to his love, Scaredy cat takes his hand and pulls himself up, he only reaches Owl shoulder in height even with his chunky boots on.

They walked for miles, leaving the city behind them as the sun sets over the cityscape. They follow the main roads which are now just a mass graveyard of long abandoned cars. They walk hand in hand and in silence enjoying the company of each other because after all…. There is a point in living your life when the one person you agreed and wanted to share your life with is right beside you as the world crumbles.