Crossing the Owl's Bridge

The job was wearing on him lately but it wasn't until he was wondering how much longer he could last that the owl showed up. It had made it's home somewhere nearby and would make itself known with hoots spaced out between the night's transport calls. Owls were a bad omen for some. Jack never minded them but this particular one seemed odd somehow. A bit eerie but Jack didn't think it would be if he was going on a full night's rest. Maybe an hour or two of sunlight. It had been awhile. Sleep was limited to the point where sometimes he felt like he should check to make sure he hadn't passed out on his couch.

After slowly tying his tie and tucking in his shirt, he got the call to go and he grabbed the keys on his way out. Gave one final look behind him to the sanctuary that seemed so separate from the night out there that it was becoming more difficult to leave.

It was cold and the moon was almost full, so there was plenty of light to see by. That was good because there was ice everywhere from the snowmelt of the previous day and he had to watch his footing. There was no tread on his nine dollar thrift store shoes. He bought them the night before his first day of work with money his sister lent him. That and a few button up shirts, ties, and one blazer a size too large. It made him look like a poor high school student dressed up for the dance, but what could he do about it. Take it on the chin seemed to have become a new motto for him

That was the nature of it, though. The night shift came with it's prices and those were numerous. Forget about a social life because he was asleep when the world was awake and awake when it slept. Forget about making simple appointments because nothing would be open. Forget about the sun entirely unless you want to sacrifice an hour or two and get up early to watch it go down. Jack always told himself he would try but he never did.

It was a quiet life full of traffic lights, headlights, and flickering christmas lights. That time of year didn't bring him the same joy that it did others and most of his past holidays were spent working or pretending it was just another day. But out there on the road, weaving through brightly lit middle class neighborhoods where each house seemed to be competing with the other, there was no way he could forget it. And his feelings toward the season didn't get any warmer answering coroner calls in December.

Jack wasn't alone in his distaste for the holiday. It was a time when suicides were high and he had been called on too many already to ever enjoy Christmas again. There wasn't one of these calls that Jack didn't feel deep in his soul. Then there's letting the family say they're last farewells. They would go outside during that time to respect the family's privacy but somehow he always managed to hear their sobs through the door. Then there were those with no one to say good-bye to them and sometimes it that was worse. So final. It made a painful, empty pit in Jack's stomach.

After that it's on to the coroner's office and then on to another call. You don't ask any questions on calls like these. You do your job and move on. Closure isn't part of the benefits package. If there was one.

There isn't.

A night starts like any other and it's manageable until he gets his first coroner call. There's no anticipating what to expect and once the gurney was rolling he was moving on to another call. It all started to feel hazy until it was gone and then it would pop back in his head the next morning when he was trying to sleep. Little flashes of unwanted memory smacked back down again like a Whack-A-Mole game. It would have been funny if it didn't keep him up long after his shift until he was on the wrong side of a sunrise and burning daylight meant for sleeping. Then he would wake just in time to see the sunset, grab a cup of coffee, and head out on the road. The long night ride, he liked to call it.

It reminded him of the myth of the ferryman taking souls across the river Styx, a gold coin placed within their mouths as payment. When Jack first started the job he would sing old religious songs from the radio if there was someone in the back, hoping that if their spirit were anywhere near they might find comfort from it. That was at the beginning, before the nights of double calls that lasted all through the night and left him sore afterward. There was no time for singing during the nights of December.

The year ended with great losses that Jack felt blessed to have felt yet wished to be rid of. There were too many people left behind in empty rooms, staring at the bed where their loved one died. Too many for him, at least. There were those meant to do this dutiful work and they were much stronger than him.

The day was New Year's when Jack dropped off his car, turned in his keys, the company credit card, all of the things he had been so proud of before. Now he was glad to be rid of them. Glad to be rid of late and long nights watching movies alone. No more horrifying scenes, no more crying families, no more squeaking wheels. It, all of it, would be gone as if it no longer existed. Jack would know that it did but it would be the sort of knowing that didn't involve remembering and that was best for him.

Life went on like it does. He made the dentist appointment he had put off for months, found another job, and reconnected with his friends. The presence of death faded but it left him wiser to the world and just how beautiful it could be. Darkness had it's place and those left to care for what remained had theirs. Jack decided to leave it to the night creatures, the harbingers and the ferrymen.

The owl left not long after and Jack got himself on the right side of the sun again.