Rebirth

“So, this is how I die?”

Those were the last words I uttered to myself.

No flashbacks. No inner peace.

There was just an overwhelming sense of dread combined with a forced acceptance of my inevitable passing.

One moment, I felt weightless. Then I was greeted with a sudden jolt of pain wherein my body unceremoniously kissed the earth. Several bones shattered as I caught a final glimpse of that damned barn owl I tried to capture. It flew away from the edge of the roof I was standing on.

Silly me! I thought I was Spiderman.

Before I knew it, I was just staring up the sky whilst tasting my own blood. I was slowly closing my eyes as I heard my mother’s horrified screams getting muffled. The next thing I knew, I was above our house. Flying. Looking at my dead body.

My name is Malonie. I am fifteen, and this is my story.

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I never believed in a god or any sort of deity. Perhaps this strange predicament was the punishment I deserved for cursing the supposed god who allowed my father to be shattered into bits in the outskirts of Baghdad. None of my prayers were heard during my time of need. Not that I prayed a lot before that.

Being a typical Catholic Hispanic girl raised in Southern Texas, it was imperative that I knew by heart the formulaic prayers if I wanted to go to heaven. That is, if heaven actually existed.

Given that I never believed in salvation or the afterlife, I was confused with my situation. I knew I was dead, but I was still flying around. I knew for a fact that my bitterness and sinfulness would not allow me to waltz through the pearly gates, let alone become an angel. Though, it was odd that I had wings.

The wings I had were unlike any of those described in biblical passages. They were not enormous, fiery, or golden. My wings were brown and spotted. There was nothing heavenly or majestic about the way I flapped my wings around.

It was then that I realized that for some wild reason, I was dead but I was neither a ghost nor did I transcend as another being from the great beyond. I was still very much alive. I felt the wind beneath my wings and they slid gently through my talons.

One thing is for certain: my time as a human ended, but my time in the world of the living was not.

There really was no explanation other than my soul being transferred to that barn owl that I last saw. Before I fell from the roof, I remembered trying to catch it. Unfortunately, bad stuff happens. I also had rotten luck myself.

If there was any consolation, I am still able to see my beloved mother as she cried for me. It made me cry, too. Although, my cries were mere hooting as I circled above where my human body lay.

A day passes and I still had no idea what to do than just hover near our house. I was getting hungry, but I cannot even fix myself a sandwich. However, with the limited knowledge I had on owls, I knew what I should eat. Maybe this is one of those moments wherein I had to realize things, be humble, and repent.

I was not going to let this god savor that moment. With my acute sense of hearing and out of this world vision, I easily spotted lunch. It was screeching in our backyard. Before long, I was feasting on its guts and innards. Something so vile and revolting never tasted so good. I cannot even imagine finding pleasure in ripping someone’s belly open. Now, I did.

This cycle of hunting and ripping prey apart continued. Anything that slithered or crawled, I ate. I would never forget this one night when I encountered this delectable bullfrog. Oh, how I hated myself for enjoying such a feast. I swooped down for the kill and snatched it away while it was doing its mating call in a nearby pond. I buried my face inside its mangled corpse and cried to myself at how lowly I had become.

If there really was redemption, I wanted it now.

I wanted to die like I was supposed to. Yet I had to learn something from all this. But what?

That I should have acknowledged a higher power?

Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? I certainly lack wisdom in discerning what I needed to learn.

I just go on every night crying for myself and my poor mother whom I loved. Yet it was only hooting that I would be able to utter.

Perhaps it was my bitterness and resentment toward God that caused me to be like this. I really do not know.

In this second life, I am unsure if I was saved. What I did know was that my life did not end; it merely transformed.

I wish I could tell more about my story.