A Timely Visitor

Oliver had awoken sharply at 3:33am from what had sounded like the fluttering wings of large bird. He still observed the “my side of the bed” policy despite that his wife passed away at the age of forty-two from breast cancer some 6 months ago. His side was the left from the foot of the bed, closest to the the window. Resting on the limb of the large northern pine on the opposite side of the glass pane was a rather curious and charming barn owl. Russet crown feathers framed his handsome snow white face. As he cocked his head to the to the left, Oliver couldn't help but notice how black his eyes were, like obsidian marbles.

Oliver reached into the drawer of his nightstand and removed a loaded chrome .38 special. He passed it over to his left hand, his dominant hand. He became aware of the coolness of the metal, and the weight of it.

“I'm sorry you have to see this, little friend, but it's long overdue. It's time to end it.” Oliver said calmly to the owl.

“Who?” The owl asked.

“Me. It's time to end... me.” Oliver sighed.

The owl then cocked his head to the right, a gesture that seemed to ask “why?' Oliver thought about how to word his answer. He wasn't quite sure why he had decided that it should be this morning, but it had most definitely been on his mind every day for the last half of a year. The reason for the day really did have nothing to do with the date, it wasn't a birthday or a death day, nor was it an anniversery of any kind. It was just another Tuesday.

“Nora was the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Oliver began, “She's gone six months now. I don't want to go on. It's just not worth it anymore.”

“Who?”

“My wife. She'd have loved you, though. She loved all animals,” as Oliver looked over his small bedroom he could see the knick-knacks on the shelf on the far wall. All owls. “ She loved owls especially. And you sir, are a fine speciman.” This made him smile.

On a whim, Oliver layed the revolver on Nora's pillow and pulled the covers off. He set his feet on the cool hardwood floor and rose to his full height. He couild feel his forty-five years most in his knees, which were creaky and stiff. Nevertheless he made his way to the window and released the latch. A burst of brisk autumn breeze cascaded over him. The owl cleared the seven feet to the window sill with ease. Oliver could hear Nora's joyful laughter in the owls' wings. He knew she wasn't there, of course, but after twenty-two years of marriage he could hear her reaction like a soldier hears gunfire and screams of agony in fireworks. He would have to enjoy this for her. He got on his aching knees in front of the window and tentatively reached out for the beautiful owl's feathers.

“It's not fair, big guy. Why did he take her away from me?” Tears filled his eyes. The owl moved closer and allowed Oliver to gently pet him.

“Who?”

“God.”

“Who?” The owl asked again. Oliver barked a short laugh.

“You know, creator of heaven and earth, of all things that creep and crawl, fly and swim. You know that guy, right?” The owl's black eyes stared back into Oliver's. “ Guess not.”

Oliver wiped the tears from his eyes and moved to stand, but the owl shuffled onto the inner sill seeming not ready to give up the attention. Oliver pulled away.

“It's time. Thank you for your company.” He said.

Oliver climbed back into bed and pulled the sky blue duvet over his legs. He retrieved the gun and firmly pressed it to his salt and pepper gray temple. He struggled to summon an image in his mind of Nora before the cancer ravaged her body, stealing her health, her pallor, her hair, and finally her life. In a sudden and unexpected burst of motion, the owl took flight, soaring directly into Oliver, causing the gun to clatter to the floor. The owl then settled on Nora's pillow. Oliver threw his hands up in frustration.

“Why?!?” Oliver exclaimed.

“Who. Who.” The owl then thumped Oliver's knee with his beak.

As Oliver leaned down and reached for the firearm, he was thumped again by the owls beak.

“Fine. I'm just going to put it away.” Oliver assured the bird as he gently placed the gun in the night stand. “ Tomorrow's another day.”

The owl settled into Nora's pillow as Oliver lays back onto his side facing the stange creature. He reached over and ruffled the owls' feathers.

“Goodnight, Nora. Thank you.” Oliver drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the first since his wife passed away.