The Owl and The Girl
By
Valerie L. Egar
An
owl, named Ilfa, lived in an abandoned hunting lodge deep in the forest. Years
of neglect created a hole in the roof large enough for Ilfa to find her way
into the house. She made her home in what was once a bedroom, roosting on a
cupboard next to a broken bed. Mice fled the straw mattress when they saw her! Except
for a quiet spider who patrolled the floorboards, Ilfa had the room to herself.
Ilfa
hunted by starlight, flying over silver rivers. Except for a few summer days
when a gentle breeze through the treetops invited her to sleep outside, she took
shelter in her tiny room during the day, dreaming owl dreams. (And what might
an owl dream? Ilfa dreamed of teaching philosophy at a university, creating a
museum-worthy collage with her cast off feathers, and, on hot days, swimming in
the cool lake like a duck.)
One
day, Ilfa came home as the sun spread its first rays through the trees. It was
autumn and a few of the trees had already lost their leaves. The overgrown
grass and fern around the lodge had yellowed. Ilfa slipped through the roof
hole, ready for a good day’s sleep.
Ilfa was taken
aback to find her room occupied. A girl lay on the dirty straw mattress,
crying. Hair disheveled, face streaked
with tears, she was a pitiful sight. Still, Ilfa felt annoyed. Bad enough to
share the lodge with someone, but the girl might have chosen a different room!
Ilfa flapped her enormous wings and screeched, hoping to frighten the girl
away.
“Oh!” The girl
looked at Ilfa. “You’re beautiful!”
“Not easily frightened,”
Ilfa thought. “She’s brave.” Ilfa knew the girl had walked through the forest
at night by herself to find the lodge and recognized that was much harder than
flying over the forest to hunt. Ilsa also saw that sorrow encircled the girl
like a shroud, cold and dark. She sighed and closed her eyes. Maybe the girl
would be gone when she awoke.
When Ilfa opened
her eyes, the sky above was vivid orange from the setting sun. The bed was
empty. She twisted her head around to listen. Whoosh. Whoosh. The girl was
sweeping. The sound came closer and the door opened.
“You’re awake.” The
girl took a few chestnuts from her pocket and placed them in front of Ilfa.
“These are for you.”
Ilfa screeched and
flew out of the roof hole. “Silly girl doesn’t know owls don’t eat chestnuts!” But,
Ilfa was still touched that the girl thought of her. “The girl is kind.”
One evening, when
Ilfa was still full from the previous evening’s hunt, she stayed home, roosting
on the cupboard. She watched the girl climb into bed and stare at the stars through the hole in the
roof.
“Stars, stars, I
wish, I wish…..” The girl started to cry.
Ilfa swooped out
of the room and flew high as the stars. “What are you going to do about the
girl?” she demanded.
“We cannot change the cause of her sorrow,”
they said. “But we will help.” They
shone their light brightly on the sleeping girl.
When she awoke in
the morning, the girl wrote a short poem. She smiled a tiny smile. The next day,
she painted a picture. The day after,
she wrote a song.
After that, she began writing
stories. Every experience she had went into her creations. As she painted,
wrote and sang, she unraveled the sorrow that had wrapped it around herself so
tightly and transformed it into something beautiful and true.
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Copyright 2018 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied, reproduced or distributed without permission from the author.
Published October 14, 2018 Biddeford Journal Tribune (Biddeford, ME)
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