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The Barn Owl

Do You Remember the Owl in the Park?

By Alexa PagePublished 2 years ago 5 min read
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The Barn Owl
Photo by Agto Nugroho on Unsplash

No one seemed to remember the tsunami, the monstrous waves that swallowed skyscrapers like they were ants in the sand. It didn't matter who many times I brought up the subject, I would only receive glares or stares of confusion. I pleaded for someone to remember, to know what I was talking about, I couldn't be the only one. I just couldn't be, right?

The bright sun kissed my eyes once again, shaking me from my slumber. I stretch and crawl out of bed, just to see the same silver car honking at the Sudan that pulled out too quickly in front of them. The same cloudless sky, the same pair of purple pajama pants, five days in a row. I sigh, close my eyes and prepare for what I know is going to come. I grab my wallet, my watch, my phone, and head to the tallest building in New York. Central Park Tower. Today, I'll make them believe me, make them remember. I take the path through Cental Park, ear buds in, walking a brisk pace, when something stops me, a curious owl, shades of brown, white, and grey, cocks it head towards me. Had it always been there, I hadn't noticed it before, and during the day? Owls are nocturnal, right?

"Hello, little one." I call out, it just stares right through me. I snap a picture, "until tomorrow, I guess."

I shake off the foreboding feeling as my phone chimes a reminder, fifteen minutes, right got to keep moving. Pushing through the same sea of people as yesterday, I reach my destination. Squeeze in-between the same man in a suit and woman in a matching pinstripe set. Checking my watch, seven minutes, the elevator will take five to reach highest floor, two to climb the ladder to the roof, three until the waves come crashing across my beloved home. Tapping my foot, the anxiety grows, the people around me have no idea what's coming. No idea that the world is about to turn upside down. I shake the thoughts from my head, no use in telling them, I've already done that, pleaded with them to come to the rooftop with me, to go home and be with their families. One day ended in security wrestling me out the building, another ending me dragging people towards a safe place, only to be meet with retaliation. I can't blame them; I would probably do the same if some stranger ran up to me and said that the world was going to end in next twenty minutes. The elevator rang, waking me from my stupor, I rush to the roof, I know the route, the path of the employees and security. I've taken precise note so I wouldn't be delayed, time was of the essence. Reaching the roof, I yank my phone from my pocket and hit record.

"Today is the thirteenth of May 2022, I am on the roof of the Central Park Tower, in the next five minutes, a tsunami, unlike anything the world has scene with tear through New York. I know it sounds impossible, but please believe me, I've lived this day five times."

"Please let this recording be here when I wake up." I take a deep breath and prepare to relive the worst day of my life, again.

If you've ever heard the rush of the tide on a beach, it's almost peaceful. A beautiful sunset against the fading blue blanket, this was nothing like that. No peace, no beautiful sunset. The crash of the wave against steel and glass, watching windows shatter, car be buried underneath water in the matter of seconds. I can't hold in the screams and tears as I watch the waves destroying everything and anything. I've seen this before, but no matter how many times I lived this moment, my heart still burns. Salty sea water mixes with my own salty tears, the building beneath me shakes and tries to fight against the pounding of thousands of pounds of water. The building will lose, just like it did yesterday, and the day before. I brace myself for the next wave, this one is the worst, the one that will sweep me away into the bleak nothing. The ice-cold water will fill my lungs and the salt will burn my eyes. I'll close my eyes and open them in my bed again, with the same purple pajamas.

I pry my eyes open, my bedroom ceiling, my pile of laundry, the silver car honking at the Suban. I grab my phone, frantically search for the video, nothing. My heart sinks and my eyes well with tears. Please, no more. My mind jolts as I notice something new, something I took yesterday, the owl. The owl is still there, staring at me through the lens of my phone's camera. I jump to my feet and rush to change. Maybe, just maybe, this is what I need to convince at least one person. If I can change one outcome.

Rushing to the park, I spot the same owl, smiling, hoping, I call out to a passerby, "look, an owl, during the day! Strange, yes?"

The person looks at me oddly, they think I haven't slept in a while or something. I stop, "how will a bird make someone believe me that a tsunami is about to hit?" I shake my head but am surprised to hear the hushed call of the owl. It seems to be calling to me, reminding me that I shouldn't give up hope, I can still try.

How does one call from an ordinary owl shake so much vigor in me, one may ask. The truth is, I don't have an answer, just something telling me to continue, work through the pain, through the heart wrenching agony that is coming. Today, I'll tell the New York, tomorrow, I'll tell the world. If I can just save one life, many I can save many. Maybe tomorrow, I won't see that owl in the park, maybe tomorrow, no waves will take my world away.

science fiction
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About the Creator

Alexa Page

Long time dreamer and one with a vivid imagination, writing and creating is a great passion of mine. I often wake up with an idea and have the urge to share with the world. Thank you for stopping by!

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