(note: I am challenging myself to write every day for 30 days. What follows may not necessarily be interesting or even coherent. Parental discretion is advised.)
He stared at the monster before him — searching putrid yellow eyes that shone from the dark, sixteen feet above where he was standing.
Remembering how he had gotten here, twelve year old Thomas Walsch felt the pain of regret for having decided to leave. His friends, his family, became an elongated shadow that attached themselves to the heels of his weary feet.
The ache he felt in his heart was magnified by the presence of this unknown creature that unexpectedly appeared onto his path.
He could feel legs quivering as he reached into a back pocket to pull out his knife. Holding it inside of a trembling fist — he raised the blade to point it at the grotesque image before him.
For an eternal minute, not a sound was made as each squared off among the rustling of leaves in the wind.
At last, Thomas dared himself to speak.
“W…Who are you and what do you want?” He addressed the large orbs — feeling the stiffness of raised hairs on the back of his neck.
It responded with frightening silence. Feeding itself into his imagination. Creating all manner of hellish and cruel punishment.
He scrunched his eyes with worry. Trying to make sense of his adversary.
All he could see was the invisible shape of a being that he could not correctly guess the proportions of.
Fear was about to overwhelm Thomas. His legs wobbled and the muscles in his hand were beginning to cramp. Sweat trickled down the side of his face and neck as he worriedly swayed from side to side.
Chills flowed through body like a troublesome wind.
Throughout, the monster remained unmoved. It did not blink.
It only stared.
Directly into the bottom of his soul.
Another hushed minute passed and Walsch’s thoughts melted into the fragments of a forgotten prayer.
Should he survive, he would never run away from home again.
It was then that a faint light began to appear in the horizon. Orange hues peeked over the side of a distant hill.
This caused the creature to stir, it’s eyes darting about with sluggish confusion as the light of a morning sun slithered onto the landscape.
The air began to change. Grew more alive. More aware.
And what was hidden now revealed itself.
With sudden violence, the creature leapt from the branches of a conifer tree and flapped it’s wings to soar over Walsch’s head.
He returned the knife to his pocket and sighed with relief. Thanking the God that blessed him.
Laughing quietly, he watched the owl fly south.
And turned to make his way home.
