The Night Shift

Randelyn L. Snow

January 19, 2021

The Night Shift

After supper, Norman pushed open the screen door and took his usual spot at the end of the porch, his legs dangling over the worn and splintered edge. The sun had already disappeared, but the earth still radiated the heat from the feverish summer sun. He felt the long sweetgrass tickle his bare feet and he reached down and plucked a piece and began chewing it thoughtlessly. His eyes adjusted to the dimming light and he surveyed the fading shadows as they rapidly blended into the shades of night. He swung his feet playfully, twirling the sweetgrass with his fingers, unconsciously lost in his thoughts as the stars punched their light, one by one, through the blackened canvas.

Quite suddenly he noticed a lack of the usual nocturnal noises. His feet paused and he stopped chewing and removed the stem slowly from his lips. He strained against the silence, his body frozen and his forehead furrowed in concentration. No frogs. No crickets. No katydids. Nothing; not even a rustle from the endless miles of golden wheat fields. An eerie feeling began to creep over him; a familiar feeling that brought memories of ancient tales his grandfather had imparted to him about the evil skin walkers.

He had the undeniable urge to rush inside, but his body was rooted to the dilapidated porch. A sensation of irrational fear began to climb up his spine and lingered at the nape of his neck, causing the hair to prickle that sent a shock wave of endorphins ricocheting through him. He swallowed and the sound resonated in the stillness. The piece of sweetgrass dropped from his fingers.

“Hooo, hooo, hooo, hoo!”

Norman scrambled clumsily to his feet, throwing his back against shabby walls of the house, his heart accelerating to a furious pace. His eyes searched through the veil of darkness. The soft light from the house cast just enough illumination so that he could vaguely see a pair of penetrating orbs gazing toward him from the fence post across the dirt road. It suddenly registered that the sound he had heard was nothing more than that of a barn owl.

“Hooo, hooo, hooo, hoo!”

Startled once again, he jumped, and then laughed at his cowardice as the owl continued to stare at him.

“Just an old barn owl,” he smirked and turned to go inside.

He had just laid his hand on the doorknob when a flash of movement caught the corner of his left eye. He wheeled, his back plastered against the door, his senses heightened, ready to burst into the safety of four walls. He could feel his heart pounding, his hands turn clammy and his mouth go dry. He did not move. The stillness was unnerving. Something was out there.

“Hooo, hooo, hooo!”

The owl had left its perch and was swooping toward him at an alarming rate. He fumbled for the doorknob behind him and his slippery hands struggled to turn it. Another flash of movement to his right this time. He whipped his gaze and saw an illusory figure galloping past his front porch only to be swallowed up by the blackness. The shrieking owl flew under the awning of the porch, narrowly missing his head. Panic overtook him, and he shoved his

shoulder into the door, and it gave way. Slamming it shut, he leaned against it, his shaking hands struggling with the lock.

Thud.

Something landed on the front porch with great force. Norman felt his breathing halt and he pushed himself harder against the door wishing he could melt into it and out of the sight line from the two windows. He cursed himself for leaving the solitary floor lamp on which illuminated the room and blocked him from seeing out the blackened panes. Taking a small and silent breath, he stood petrified, listening to the threadbare planks creak under the weight of the creature’s measured footsteps.

It paused, just outside of the door. Norman felt every muscle in his body lock, ready to push against the only barrier between himself and the terrifying unknown. He heard the slow and ragged breathing, and he felt as if his heart may explode it was beating with such ferocity. A rivulet of sweat traced its way down the side of his face.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Something against the door…a claw? A fingernail? Norman could not be sure, other than it sounded exceedingly sharp. He tried to swallow, but his throat was parched. And then suddenly, just as before, there was the devoid of sound. Moments passed in ringing silence. Norman felt himself becoming unhinged. He had to breathe. His muscles were beginning to ache from the tension. His mind screaming questions, yet he dared not move. The distant, soft hoot from the owl broke the stillness. Norman nearly jumped out of his skin. He waited, with bated breath, for the creature outside the door to make its move.

Nothing. It was a stalemate.

Do I wait here until the morning?

Waiting seemed impossible. It was hours before daylight and Norman’s nearest neighbors lived two miles away. Judging from the speed which the creature moved, he knew he couldn’t outrun it, even if it was just to the barn where his pickup was parked. And even if he had a phone, that would entail moving and making noise. He had no idea what horror stood behind his front door, but at least in the room, the façade of safety gave him some space for clarity of thought.

“Hooo, hooo, hooo!”

Norman felt his heart lurch momentarily.

What in the hell is wrong with that owl?

He mulled over the strange behavior of the bird. It seemed rather odd for it to be hanging around if the creature outside were a true danger. Perhaps he had overreacted and let irrational thoughts and childish memories of folklore in the darkness get to him. He had grown up hearing legends of mythical creatures that haunted the night and stole one’s soul, but he never truly believed in them. He felt his muscles start to relax and he took a deep breath and moved from the door.

Tap, tap, tap.

He stiffened and another chill ran down his spine, but he had a knee jerk reaction. He scanned the room and reached for the nearest object for a weapon: the lamp. He yanked it

from the wall, the room plunging into darkness. He was sweating with fear, and he felt his hands going numb from his tight grip on the lamp pole. He waited for his eyes to adjust and then after a moment of tense apprehension, he yanked open the door, rushed forward, ready to thrust the pole into…nothing.

He regained his balance from the attack and straightened slowly and cautiously. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and guardedly scanned from left to right, willing his eyes to see the horrible abomination that had just rapped on his door. The moon had made half of an appearance, its dim light revealing little. But even upon his guarded inspection, there was nothing beyond the hush of night and the owl, who had taken its perch on the fence post, once again.

“Hooo, hooo, hooo!”

Norman felt the pit in his stomach tighten and he angrily stomped down the steps toward the bird. With a determined stride he meant to scare it away, but it sat placidly, watching his approach. Suddenly, its head spun to the left, and Norman felt his entire body bristle with a surge of dread. He swung around, bringing the lamp pole with him, but it was too late. The creature was hurdling toward him from the gray shadows. Norman watched as the owl launched itself toward the creature, and for a split second he was entrenched with fear and caught the image of the fiend.

Monstrous in size, it ran on enormous human legs, yet its trunk seemed to morph halfway into something akin to a rabid, mangy dog. Its teeth gnashed at him, and Norman’s instincts kicked in. Frightened beyond bravery, he barreled toward the barn. He dared not look

back to see the nightmare that was steadily gaining on him. He could hear the hard breath and the predatory visceral growl as it drew closer to him. The barn was not more than 100 feet away. In his frenzied escape and panic he glanced back, hoping beyond hope that there was enough distance between them to make it to his truck, but his eyes widened in horror as he turned and the beast’s massive, outstretched arm was reaching for him, and he felt the searing pain of the claws as they drug across his back and tore through his shirt. In his panic, he stumbled over his feet, and the color drained from his face as he realized his imminent demise.

He closed his eyes, preparing for the secondary blow which would take him to the ground, but an unexpected shrieking tore through the air. He opened his eyes and nearly fell to the ground as the owl was careening straight towards his face. In desperation, he squeezed his eyes shut and held up his arms to shield his head from the simultaneous attacks, but it was suddenly as if he were weightless. In a split second pause he felt as if he had left the earth, and his eyes flew open, wondering if death had come so quickly that he had no time to realize it had happened. He was ascending, but of his own will.

Confused, he swiveled his head and saw white feathered wings splayed beside him. An instinctual reaction occurred in his body and he watched as the wings flapped, and his body rose higher. A familiar hoot greeted his ears and he watched, incredulously, as the owl glided next to him. An instantaneous realization flooded over him as he actualized the shape shifting event. He looked down at the ground and saw the monster tearing along the ground, watching the two birds with a glaring eye. Norman turned his gaze back to the owl who was observing him with curiosity.

The owl turned suddenly, prompting Norman’s instincts to follow, and the two circled and watched below as the fiend pawed against the earth, emitting agitated growls then followed by a series of angry howls. He felt the penetrating stare of the other owl and it veered sharply north. Norman made a large swoop, surveying his run-down farmhouse and tattered barn before arcing north and following the owl into the night.