The Mouths of Hungry Babies

Was that the sound of dogs in the distance? Arnold couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to believe they had tracked him so quickly. As he stumbled through the woods with his bum leg slowing him down and the light of day fading, Arnold decided that it might be better if he just hid out for a few hours before continuing on. It would give him some time to figure out what to do next.

In his efforts to evade his captors, he had passed by many remnants of former farmland and also the occasional house, reminding him that he wasn’t in a forest. It was really just a big stretch of undeveloped land that was once destined to become strip malls and housing before the economy turned and half the town moved to the city. He’d have to think strategically to find a good spot in such limited surroundings. Seeing a large overturned tree on a hilly slope he began digging with his hands near the broken roots. He crouched into the small hole he created and covered himself up with dirt and leaves. Arnold prided himself for his ingenuity. You could say a lot of things about him but no one could say that Arnold Lundren was a stupid man, he told himself.

Yes siree, Arnold had been a rather successful small-time crook. He’d only been locked up once and that was for violating an order of protection from the ex-wife. He was an excellent forger, stealing identification and making them his own. Then he would obtain employment long enough to rob the company blind, or at least of a few thousand dollars. Arnold was also good at breaking in and had robbed quite a few homes. He also dabbled in ripping off the elderly by convincing them to give him their social security numbers.

It was his last job, where he had combined two of his fortes, seniors and breaking and entering, that had landed him under this tree. He was sure of it.

A few days before, Arnold had decided rob the home of an eccentric widow. She lived in a creepy looking house surrounded by dead trees. The home had strange, cryptic symbols drawn all over it, but Arnold didn’t care. He hadn’t believed in curses then. All he knew is that the woman was something of a philanthropist (which made the town overlook some of her many quirks). A child's playground bore her name. If she was giving away money, it may as well go to Arnold.

The woman never left the home so Arnold broke in shortly after midnight. Old people go to sleep early, he’d assumed. Unfortunately for Arnold, the old bitty defied quite a few of the stereotypes. Not only was she up, she was armed with a bat and had pumped some iron in her spare time. She was powerfully strong and beat the crap out of him.

As he limped away, she cackled, “You won’t be taking food out the mouths of my babies!” She laughed and laughed. And she put a curse on him. He would go to the grave believing that, because from then on, everyone was suddenly looking for him.

The police had apparently put all the phony ID pieces together. The FBI was involved since his dealings covered several states. But even worse, all the shady characters he owed money to found out where he was and decided to collect. For a man who had lived anonymously his whole life, everyone instantaneously knew his name, his real name.

Arnold heard men nearby. He tried to make himself even smaller. Then, a bird landed on a broken stump directly in front of him. It was an owl. Arnold smiled. The owl was his spirit animal. He’d never actually seen one before. But he knew they were wise, just like him.

The huge barnyard owl glared at him. Then it let out the most frightening screech Arnold had ever heard. It was loud and eerie. Owls are supposed to hoot, thought Arnold. This demonic animal must have been sent by the old woman.

“You hear that?” someone said.

Arnold was nervous. They seemed very close by.

The owl screeched again.

“Damn it, bird!” thought Arnold. He debated throwing something to scare it away.

Steps walking through the leaves made their way even closer.

“Look, it’s an owl!” said one of the officers. “What’s it staring at?”

“Leave it alone, we know he’s out here somewhere,” was the reply.

But steps came closer. Then they stopped. Then more steps and Arnold knew he was busted. The bird flew to a nearby tree but continued to glare at Arnold as he was handcuffed and brought away. Arnold would have much time to contemplate the clichés about owls and old ladies.

With Arnold and the others gone, the barnyard owl flew down to the ground near the overturned tree and picked up the mouse she had killed just before the human disrupted her routine, causing her to drop it. Satisfied, now that she had retrieved her bounty, she flew off knowing her babies would eat tonight.