The Owl Watching the orange and red flames leaping up the walls, I can see a large white owl flying overhead. A young couple run and trip into the raging fire as screams reverberate around me.  A familiar feeling of terror races through me.  I’ve been here before, night after long night, the same fire, the same couple and the same Chinese restaurant.   The white owl is new, why was I seeing a white owl? As I wake to the warmth of my soft pillows and warm duvet, I hear a knock.  Being nudged in the side is not the best way to get out of bed, becoming more aware of my surroundings, Paul is sat up in bed staring at the window. The curtains are drawn and there are dark shadows forming. “Paul what’s happening?” “Birds Lucy, wings.” Trembling I placed my feet on the cold unwelcoming bedroom floor. This was not the best wake up call, what’s happening outside? “Lucy, careful.” Reaching the window, I close my eyes for a second and open the curtains. Cautiously telling myself to look, I’m stunned. “Oh my.” There on the windowsill is a majestic looking snowy owl with its wings outstretched.  Noticing me watching, it screeched but remained sat. “Paul, have you been dreaming about owls?” “Yes, a big white one.” “Come and look.” A few moments later we are stood, holding hands, staring at the owl.  First, we dream about it and now it’s here banging on our bedroom window. “That’s it, I’m going to see Mrs Zintalis.  The fire dream is reoccurring nightly and now we have an owl”. Mrs Zintalis On arriving at the small musty shop the busy hum of people filled my ears.  Listening to the voices around me,  the excited chatter of the shoppers. The queue and the ping of the cash till.  Stepping into the shop was like stepping into the past, everything was old, from the worn-out carpet to the faded paintings.  Catching the eye of the grey-haired lady at the cash desk, she waved in acknowledgement. Waiting for the crowds to die down, I started browsing.  Dusty trinkets and books with yellow pages, magazines and old Beano comics.  A shop that holds so many stories within its walls, with its wise ruler stood and its helm. “Lucy, come, I’ll put the kettle on.” Following her into the back room, her round wooden table is piled with books. “Lucy, tell me what’s happening?” “For weeks we have been sharing fragments, fire and a young couple, last night I saw a white owl.  This morning we were woken by a large Snowy owl outside, what does this mean?” “Owl?  Tea Lucy?” She stammered. Nodding, I could feel her fear, from everything that has happened these last few months, a Snowy owl now had her spilling the tea. Paul Having a wife doing God’s work is unusual. All our predictive dreams and the people we have saved.  The old lady and her old-fashioned curiosity shop.  Surely, being woken by an owl could be normal but the overwhelming significance of it in this case is suffocating. Being hounded by it, we need to work out what’s happening.  I’ve never been superstitious but advice of bad omens has us all scared. Seeing fires, couples dying and now an owl being a bad omen, we need to find the answers soon because people are going to die. Lucy Watching Mrs Zintalis shaking, I knew this situation was greater than me needing to wear a Kevlar vest.  I need to work this out and soon, I’ve always liked owls but now just hearing their hoot sends a feeling of spiders walking across my chest. Reaching for my laptop I need to find an expert in the supernatural, someone who understands more about why seeing an owl could be a bad omen. Finding a Mrs Dobson, I dialled her number.   Written for Blog Battle – Owl For more see, Fragments of fire and trouble