The Owl by J. Iner Souster
While Amelia slept, Harland witnessed her transformation into an exquisite brown owl. Her arms, which changed into wings, were resting on her stomach, and she was so flawless that he was afraid if he touched her, she would shatter into a million pieces.
Even though he felt the pain of loss, Harland couldn’t let go and clung to it with all his might. He huddled in his cramped and lonely space with one single bed, a round table, and one wooden chair where Harland sat, admiring Amelia as she gazed out the window with a temperate expression.
With a delicate kiss on Amelia’s head, Harland was in awe as she remained still, seemingly unaware of his presence. He waited in astonishment as he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath.
Time could no longer hold any power over existence.
When it got late, Harland slid out the window into the rain and slept under a black umbrella on the street. He dreamed of his fingers gently holding her, never wanting to let go. He embraced the dream and shut his eyes to behold her lovely form.
As the sunlight turned golden, the clouds rushed off the horizon. After a while, Harland opened his eyes, put his head on his crossed arms, and waited for the storm to pass.
He staggered towards the looming apartment building as if drawn by an invisible force. He stood frozen at the door, desperately listening for any sign of life from inside, but the silence was deafening. The thunder of his heart went unheard. With a creeping sense of dread, he reluctantly lowered his hand and tugged at the door handle, revealing the darkness beyond. The gaping entrance beckoned him as he dragged his feet towards his lonely cubbyhole.
Harland lifted the window and could hear the relentless raindrops pounding the pavement below. He felt the cold water seep into his skin as if it were washing away his soul. The rain seemed heavy on his flesh as each carried a burden he could no longer bear. The deluge in Harland’s heart was a reminder. The emptiness of the night was stifling, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one left in the world.
That evening, a gentle, warm wind blew. It was soothing. The clouds slowly moved away, and the sunset painted the sky with oranges and pinks. Harland lifted Amelia into his arms.
A sound like a bird caught his ear.
Harland felt Amelia flutter, and she opened her eyes. Pink and orange filled the room, and then she began to fade. He knew he had to be dreaming, and when he looked down, Amelia was gone. His arms felt heavy as he extended them, and he used his foot to shut the door with a dull thud, sealing himself off from the world. He let the colours wash over him, holding on to faith as it, too, began to dim.
J. Iner Souster is a painter of landscapes and portraiture, a sculptor who creates musical instruments out of reclaimed materials, metal dresses from handspun metal, and a collection of upcycled FauxBots. He’s also a photographer, musician, illustrator and mixed media artist. His writing has appeared in Spillwords, Friday Flash Fiction, A Story in 100 Words, 100 Word Project, The Drabble, and 101 Word Stories.
Artwork by Iner Souster
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