Jareth's Secret

"Holes punched through a black blanket," Everly murmured as she lifted her right hand and extended it toward the velvet black sky. Greyson, her boyfriend of two less than monogamous years, made a grunting sound to acknowledge her which pulled Everly from her reverie.

She scowled at Greyson as he flipped through his Instagram feed. The light of the phone lit up Greyson's face. His jaw line, perfectly right. His lips, perfect pillows to rest her cheek against. His hair, a beautifully tousled brunette, and his body lithe and strong. Yes, Greyson checked all the boxes for Everly's fleshly needs. However, like most beautiful men, Greyson was lacking in depth. She nudged his leg with hers, and asked,

“What do you think of the view?”

“There is no view, it’s night,” he responded without taking his eyes off his phone.

Everly let out a soft sigh, “I meant the stars. What do you think of the stars?”

Greyson shrugged, “I dunno, they look like stars I guess.”

“Well why are we out here if stars are just stars to you?”

Greyson—hearing the irritation in Everly’s voice, and not wanting to spoil his chances of sex—put his phone into his jacket pocket, and scooted even closer to Everly. In the softest tone his tenor voice would allow he said,

“I wanted to be alone with you.”

Everly rolled her eyes and shook her head,

“No, you can be alone with me at my apartment or yours. We don’t need to go four wheeling just so you can get your dick wet.”

Greyson let out a loud laugh. He loved—no that wasn’t the right word—he was delighted when Everly was upfront with him. Most women were begging to give him what he wanted no ifs, ands, or buts. Well, maybe a few butts. Greyson chuckled. Everly, not knowing the double entendre that played in his immature mind asked,

“What’s so funny?”

Greyson shook his head and said, “nothing, nothing at all.”

Uncomfortable silences manifest quite quickly between two people with nothing in common but sex, and so the two filled the silence with loud moans, deep kisses, and hard grunts. After the sex—because calling it love would be an insult to the word—Greyson allowed Everly to fall asleep in his arms, and when he was quite sure she was asleep he rolled her to the side, and scooted away, taking all the blankets with him.

The barn owl always took his flights at night, it was innately him. He particularly liked to fly and hunt near a local campsite. He did this because sometimes he got to people watch. It was his most favorite thing to do. After stretching his wings in flight, and hunting—when dawn was hours from approaching—he would perch, he would wait, and, if lucky enough, watch something intriguing. This night he happened upon a couple. One was male who the barn owl thought average, average compared to him when he was human. The other was female. The barn owl, a peeping tom, side stepped, scooted, and twerked his big head, to get a better view with his binocular vision of the female.

She is lovely, he thought.

Her eyes bigger than any human’s he had ever seen. Her hair, like the color of the daffodils that grew near the old dilapidated barn he slept in during the day. Her arms like a swan's neck, thin and long.

Ah, feathers would look so nice on those arms.

The barn owl wanted to get a better look so he flew to a tree closure. He landed gently on the nearest branch to her. She was looking up at the sky, and her hand was reaching out as if she could pluck the stars like berries from a bush. The barn owl shifted his body weight back and forth. Something in him stirred. It wasn’t hunger, he had just eaten, but something close to it. He watched the two talk for the briefest of moments, wonder into silence, and then fall into sex. The barn owl’s feathers ruffled and fluffed in irritation as he watched the male grope and kneed his hands all over the female's body. He watched the male hurriedly sink his mouth onto her neck.

He is a Wolf, the barn owl thought.

All the while the female gazed up. The barn owl watched as she drew her attention to her surroundings. First, the trees, then the leaves on the trees, the branches, and then on him. The barn owl went stone still. He was shocked that she could see him through the cloak of night. The barn owl felt fear gnawing at him. He was exposed and yet she continued to stare, and stare, and stare, until the male broke it with his exclamation of ecstasy. The female pulled her attention back to the male. The barn owl watched them—no he watched her—until she succumbed to a beautiful sleep.

Everly woke up slowly from a sleep full of dreams about princes in the guise of owls. The cold morning pierced through her thin flannel shirt and jeans. She buttoned her shirt up to its’ collar, tucked her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked to Greyson, he was still sleeping warmly under all of the blankets. She was more disgusted with herself than she usually was after rough sex with him. She looked to the morning sky, inhaled the fresh pine scent of the trees, and drew her attention to the ground. Right next to her, just a few inches away, was one lone, long, white feather. She picked it up, and drew it across her check, then ran it across her neck. It felt wonderful, like a promise. A promise that something totally fantastically eerie was headed her way. Remembering that beautiful white barn owl, Everly smiled to herself, and thought,

I’m ready.