Sisters’ Short Story

Kinship with Owls

Sisters’ Short Story reflects the close bond between siblings who have endured much together. In unspoken understanding, they build upon an imperfect past, hoping for a better future.

Under the crescent moon,

Starlight glory strewn,

Owl spoke to the young.

Chest with wisdom sprung.

“You gathered here today

Think not only of your prey!

Night will not last,

Bright the sun will blast

Lessons unlearned and long forgotten,

Leads to futures ill-begotten.

Sky warriors, unmindful of changes we do not see.

Yet danger lurks, harken to my plea!

.

With a hooting cry,

Claw, fight, and fly!

We are not of this world,

From the earthen clay hurled.

Wings take us where we need to go.

Our territory we know.

But nests need more than old owls to contain,

‘My kill, my fill’ must not be life’s refrain.

A time for tender care

Nurtures hope – if we dare.

Our bloody best,

Be put to rest.

For meat today,

Will not stay.

Our repast cannot last.

When death comes, as it must someday,

Remember tomorrow’s young and pray.”

Lucia gripped the porch railing and held on tight. Luminescent moon rays washed her lithe figure in ethereal white. Her mother’s raised voice splintered the air, silencing the owls, while her father’s rage rose in catastrophic fury. How they hate each other. She wanted to keep on her feet, but waves of dizziness engulfed her.

A strong hand gripped her arm, a voice breathed against her ear. “Come with me. There’s nothing for us here.”

Maisie, her sister, older, larger, stronger in every way, stepped off the porch into the darkness.

Lucia had to follow, though fear rippled over her skin. Into Owl territory. Masters of the night. Do they mind? But her sister was right. There was nothing for them in the house or on the porch but their parents’ skin-ripping, flesh-tearing hatred. Despite night creatures’ warnings, they had a chance in the woodlands. Owls probably wouldn’t attack her. Certainly not Maisie! Lucia almost chuckled at the thought.

Maisie’s voice rose, beckoning.

Lucia hurried and tripped over a tuft of grass beside a mole hole. Stay underground where it’s safe!

Mild for November, but soon winter would strip the last leaves from the trees, leaving the world stark and bare. A shiver ran over Lucia’s arms.

After a short tromp, Maisie pulled her onto a fallen log and wrapped a warm arm over her shoulders. “I’m hardly ever cold. Here, sit close and rest a bit.”

An owl hooted, and in the distance, another answered in a companionable conversation. Lucia heard herself speak before she had a chance to think out her words. “My teacher said that owls are vicious creatures, eating innocent animals alive.”

A long sigh and Maisie’s chest heaved as if the pronouncement weighed heavy on her soul. Finally, her voice deep for a fourteen-year-old, rose softly against the night. “They are only acting according to their natures. Owls need to feed. But even they know how to nurture their young.”

That last part, mysterious in its contradiction, seemed to speak of greater things. The image of an owl feeding its owlet the bloody remains of its prey didn’t distress Lucia as much as she thought it would. She understood. They could be no other way. She looked over and could just make out her sister’s profile in the moonlight. “Mama and Daddy are not taking care of us when they fight, are they?”

Maise heaved another sigh from her chest into the autumn night. “Not us. Not them. Not anyone.”

Another question rose, her nine-year-old mind trying to make sense of quivering reality. “Owls don’t hate, do they?”

Only Maisie’s head shook in answer. No words needed.

A voice called in the distance. Mother yelled in a plaintive cry, “Girls! Where are you? Come in from the cold. It’s all right now. Daddy has gone off.”

A silent moment. Neither Maisie nor Lucia moved.

Mother’s voice rose again, her irritation pecking at them. “Get inside before the coyotes eat you!”

Maisie rose, one hand gripping Lucia’s.

Perplexed, Lucia hung back. “I don’t think coyotes would eat me. Not with you here.”

Maisie started forward, towing her sister as she plodded through the undergrowth. “I’ll take care of you. But Mama needs us right now. She’ll get worried and angry, and that’ll make everything worse.”

Compassion rising over fear, Lucia tromped along through the woods. At the edge of the porch light, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. The owls hooted to each other. “I want to stay with them.”

A rueful chuckle and Maisie crouched at her side, peering into her face. “Someday, we will make a new nest. A place of love. And we will live there.”

Lucia nodded. With a sigh that echoed her sister’s, Lucia climbed the porch steps and went inside. As she stared at her mother’s red-rimmed, flashing eyes, she knew that though she could never have lived with the owls, she did feel a kinship. Hate was not her nature.

A. K. Frailey is the author of 21 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother.
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