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

Our Fragments

After following so many prophecies this is the first time I’ve slept through my alarm. Fragments of the night are inhabiting my thoughts making my head buzz. Feeling like I haven’t slept, I force myself out of bed.

Using the bannister to help me down the stairs, I hear Betsy in the kitchen. Pushing the door I can see Paul busy making hot chocolate. All in our pyjamas, I sit down and stretch my arms in a yawn.

Paul is rattling a spoon around my favourite purple mum mug as I notice Betsy’s red face. Wiping my eyes, I put my arms around her.

“What’s happened Betsy?”

She started sobbing, “Oh mum.”

“Lucy, I think we have a problem here.  Doing God’s work is becoming a puzzle.”

“I’m confused, what’s going on?”

“The last few weeks, Betsy, has been having dreams.”

“Yes, I know, we’ve put things together.”

Passing me my mug, Paul says,

“Lucy, last night I had my first dream, or first one that I can remember.  This is different, we have fragments, Betsy has one part of the message, I have another and I’m assuming by the look of you that you have part three”.

Sipping my chocolate, I take Betsy’s hand.

“What did you see?”

Paul put his hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“Betsy it’s okay, we can work with this, tell mum.”

Feeling a surge of nausea sweep through me, I pictured myself being shot again.

A puzzle

“Mum, I saw fire, fire here.”

“Here?

“Home.  I saw Firemen.”

“And?’

“I don’t know where we were. Just saw fire and men.”

I thought of my night, my arms felt prickly like ants were running up them, I had seen fire too.

“Paul, what was your dream?”

“Fire and a group of children, but I saw a field not this house.”

Remembering what I saw, I couldn’t see how the dream fragments went together. We all saw fire, Betsy saw our home, Paul, a field and me, my favourite Chinese restaurant.

“Okay, we know there will be a fire but where?”

“I’ve an idea on that and Betsy I think this might reassure you.”

Both looking at Paul, we didn’t know what to expect.

The fragments

Before you fell asleep, what is the last thing you thought about?

Without thinking, I answered, “food, Chinese food”

“Betsy and you?’

‘My bedroom, my home, my Barney bear.”  I thought of Betsy’s special bear i had bought him when she was a baby.

‘So, Paul, I guess yours was a field?”

“I had been planning a country walk this weekend, so yes that’s how the different dreams knit together.”

‘Hmmm, so Paul, where does Fire come into it?”

“Something is going to burn.”

I thought about this, three dreams all linking to one premonition. Everyone has their own wants and needs, and we all have an internal fire, so was this a metaphor for something greater?  Thinking this over I put my hot chocolate mug in the kitchen sink.

Leaving Betsy at school, she seemed happier, the events of the night not as significant in the day. This is the first fragmented premonition we have had, and it doesn’t make sense.

Early next morning

Staring across the flames, Betsy and Paul are watching me, a young couple run pass me holding hands as the Chinese Chef is screaming. A night out turning into a nightmare as the couple trip into the flames. Hearing screaming, I start to feel nauseous and fall to the floor.

As something is pushing me down the screaming is in my ears, hearing the word, mummy, I sense the warm cocoon around me. Becoming more aware I feel the soft pillows under my head.

As I wake the world becomes clearer, another dream and looking at Betsy’s red face we have more dream fragments to examine.  Pulling her in close, Paul enters the room.

“More Fire?”

Have we all had repeat dreams? Why the fire and our home, a field and the Chinese restaurant?

“I need to walk, Betsy these are just dreams, our home is going no where”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                “But mummy, there was someone in our home, someone lying in the fire.”

I thought of the couple in the restaurant falling into the fire.

“Paul, was the field empty?”

“No, there was a couple there.” He hesitated, I knew what he was going to say next, “and they got caught in the fire.”

Plans

Finding the couple is a priority, but where will I find them? Sharing a dream premonition between two of us had been hard. Feeling the pressure of putting together fragments of information from three and getting the message right, I held my head with my hands. With the weight of the world on my shoulders wondering again why I had been given this awesome job, I hope I work out the answer before someone who isn’t destined to die yet, dies.

Written for Blog Battle – Fragment

For more see A revolution movement and a shooting – previous part of this story

Revolution

I watched the dark-haired man with the matted dreadlocks. Waving a bright red banner reading ‘viva la revolution.’ As the screaming started a sharp needling pain went through my side.

Waking with a jump, I became aware that Paul was thrashing around in his sleep.  This was new, I’ve never woken up in the middle of a premonition. What was going on with Paul? Should I wake him? Deciding to let him sleep, I shuffled out of bed.

Standing in the kitchen waiting for the microwave to ping, my thoughts were on hot chocolate.  The next mission was far from my mind. Minutes later I was stirring my drink, comforted by the chink of the spoon against ceramic.

Savouring the sweet warm liquid, I jumped as the silence was filled by a scream. Placing my mug on the worktop, my chair fell to the floor as I scraped it back.  With sweat pouring off me, my stomach ached as I ran up the stairs two at a time.

Reaching Betsy’s room, I could hear Paul, through sobs her words grounded me.

“He shot mummy”.

Remembering the sharp jab in my side before I woke,  I listened to Paul’s calm reassurance. From the tone of his voice, calm concern, I know that things are bigger than us.

Mrs Zintalis shop

As her calm smile vanished, she began to stammer,

“I think we need tea, surely this can’t happen? Not a child.”

“Mrs Zintalis, this happened and Betsy saw me killed, how can I stop these people? Stop the revolution?”

As she hovered making a fuss with the tea pot, Paul took my hand.

“The night she had her dream I woke after feeling a needle like pain go through me.”

“Love, did you die?”

I thought about it,

“I heard screaming, saw the revolution banner, felt the pain and woke up.  To be honest I thought Paul kicked me in his sleep.”

What to do now?

I squeezed Paul’s hand, I need him here with me and I don’t want to die.

“So, what does this mean? What should I be doing?”

Pouring the tea, the old woman answered.

“You have to do this, every dream means something and you must follow.”

Paul, spoke now,

“Even if she dies?”

“All we know love is that she’s shot, we don’t know if she dies.”

My mind was racing.  I thought of the pain in my side.

“I need a vest, like what the police use, Paul what ‘s it called?”

“A Kevlar vest.”

Mrs Zintalis spat out her tea.

“A few days ago a man brought in a police vest, he said it would be needed”.

Coincidences don’t happen often but my world is now full of them.

The vest

“Surely, if I wear the vest, I can help the revolutionaries and prevent whatever goes wrong.”

“You must be careful love, but yes it does seem that way.”

As she passed it to me, I felt chills and remembered the dream again. This was happening any night soon.

“Thank you Mrs Zintalis, we just need to work out how to stop the revolution”.

Two days later

Drinking coffee while reading my usual social media account, I found our answer. Viva la Revolution, meeting tonight in the town centre.   This was it, me and the Kevlar vest would be performing in just hours.

Telling Paul, I would see him later and hugging Betsy I didn’t want them to worry.  Vest hidden in the boot, I started the engine and started on my mission.   I rarely know what disaster I have stopped and tonight I can’t stop shaking.

The revolution

Pulling into a parking space I could hear the excited shouting. Bracing myself against the cold, the premonition played again and I thought of Betsy.   Having premonitions scared me, it’s not fair that they are now affecting my little girl.  Her first one seeing me shot was cruel, why would a loving God use her or maybe I wasn’t supposed to wake up when I did.

As the crowds gather, I look for the shooter, seeing the police nearby I wonder again why I’m here.  The crowds start to chant loudly, “viva la revolution”, a small child catches my eye and she is dragging a toddler behind her.  As a shot fills the air I begin to realise my purpose, why I needed to be here right now.  Feeling the vibration and needling pain I fall to the floor.

I’ve never been shot before, and I can hear the police radios.  Who are the children?  Why are they here?  And surely the police are going to question the vest that has just saved my life. Too many questions, but I seem to be the only one who could have been hurt here.  Working out who the shooter is, I know is a job for the police and this is just another day in my life of helping change.

For more see, part one – A charm bracelet and a strange shop

Part two – Blank slates and spiritual interventions

Written for Blog Battle – Revolution