My Barn Owl Friend

My Barn Owl Friend

What keeps you awake at night? Perhaps the noise from streets below, or sounds of restless children. Maybe the clock ticking or electronic devices flashing blue. For me, when I try to sleep, I hear his screech. He alerts me that he is on his way to intercept me from a good night’s rest. My barn owl friend is near.

I am strongest during the day. The hustle and bustle of a busy life make it easy to keep him at bay. As powerful as he is, he has his weaknesses. He can’t prey on me once the sun comes up or when it rains. It’s almost like he has no desire or appetite to drive him during those times, so he waits in the shadows. With the sun being my suit of armor, his window of opportunity only comes at night. It is as if my deepest thoughts are the only thing that can lure him. When I close my eyes, he knows.

Lights are out, there is no noise, I am completely alone. I try to fall asleep, with no avail. I am in my most vulnerable state. One thought leads to the next, and because there are no distractions or suit of armor, I am forced to face my him. I must acknowledge thoughts I sent away during the day. I can’t bury them any longer, they surface in the darkness with determination and a vengeance I can’t ignore. My thoughts are demanding attention and will not back down. My barn owl friend is near.

He arrives, lures me in, and devours me whole. The dance between us happens at night when the nocturnal animal visits with its insatiable appetite. It only takes seconds, yet it feels like hours, as if he is chewing slowly on my soul. My skin, my bones, and my feelings are swallowed all at once. There is nothing left of me.

I lay in darkness and complete silence. I beg him to go away, yet he consumes me, what else could he possibly want? I have nothing more to give him and wonder how I got to this place. I can’t help but wonder if I somehow invited him. Did I ask him to come? Perhaps I subconsciously called for him during the day. Sometimes I can’t decide if he is an unwanted guest, or if he has an open invitation. After all, I call him my friend.

He is truly my predator, but perhaps I call him friend in order to tolerate him. The invitation I give him could be a sick coping mechanism to bring comfort to losing my soul to him each night. I lay in bed, close my eyes, and wait. I hear his screeches in the distance, I know he’s on his way. He takes a head-first dive towards me. My eyes are closed, but I can still see his beautiful ghostly white face and piercing eyes. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t prevent the inevitable, the site of his facial disk is replaced with his long razor like talons. In my most vulnerable state, he is ready to prey on my every thought, my every weakness.

Lying in bed is torture. Hours upon hours of relentless searching through every segment of my being. Hunting to feed on and uncover my deepest thoughts and emotions as he rips and pulls them out of complete darkness. What is he searching for? He may not know himself. Once he is done taking in the food of my soul, he gives back the parts of me that even he can’t digest.

My barn owl friend flies away and leaves me alone in the darkness.