Denial's Not Just a Feeling

An Illusion of Fear

Scared and confused the girl trekked on, unaware of the raging clouds, thunder cracks and lightning strikes. Wind howling endlessly, adding to the dreary air; dark thrust in only the afternoon hours finally sent a chill down her spine, curling her toes once looking up.

Angry clouds stared back, large and ferocious as if the gods were mad. Thunder boomed, the sound of warriors fighting a mighty battle, whether winning or losing she knew not. Lightning strikes rang in her ears, rattling her thought process to incoherence.

"Not to fear," her mother would always say as she rocked her in her lap as the power would most always leave their neighborhood. "The warriors are here to fight the evil."

A lightning strike lit the sky to white.

The small girl froze, shuddering, wanting to hide within herself, even if it was in the mists of a storm, though she knew not to fear, that she had to push to safety . . . wherever that may be.

Her mother says, "Child, no need to wine and whimper, my girl, as the dark and light angles have clashed swords. Is all that noise and darkness is. The dark angles trying to overturn the light angles and warriors, but they never prosper, no."

The girl unfroze, taking in several deep breaths before she could actually feel her body gain back control. Staring ahead at another flash of white, she knew then how powerful the light angles and warriors were. She firmed her face, walking proudly through the approaching storm with a high head.

About an hour into marching and now soaked to the toe, she spotted dense cave, large enough for four of her to walk in standing on top of one another.

Braving the darker and unknown cave she walked in, her body stiff, ready to flee at any moment. Drip-dropping due to her now matted hair and cold body drenched. She didn't even realize her shiver until she noticed her inability to walk straight and keep her teeth from joining together to form a click-click-click-clicking.

Just when she thought the cave had no end and the sound of the battle dispersing behind her, a red-orange gleam made its way to sight and a large shadow cast among the rocky wall. Large, whole and dark, she clamped her chattering teeth closed.

A high pitched, helpless squeak unexpectedly caught her ears.

She stalked sly, peeping behind a large rock, able to cover her small, four-foot frame shocked, blinked didn't clear her confusion.

A small, wet creature sitting near a fire had its back to her. Colorful as a rainbow, as small as the palm of an adult males' hands put together. Feathers shook violently, feet and tail most likely to be tucked under. The creature turned at the continuous drip-dropping of water droplets to the floor.

They stared. The bird-like creature into dew eyes, the girl into silver, polished and shined.

An owl, she thought puzzled. A bird meant in the trees or ground is in a cave and made a fire? Added it's beautifully colored. How can eyes be silver? Oh, it'll get sick!

She stepped into full view from behind the rock.

The owl squeaked painfully, still shivering violently.

The girl hurried to the small creature, kneeling, wrapping small arms around a delicate bird squealing again, it settled, burying its head in her wet shirt stuck to her frame.

A loud thunder crack had the owl jumping in the girls' arms, squirming even deeper into her shirt.

The girl started rocking the poor bird gently, their shadow mimicking their movement on a large scale against the rocky wall, the embers dancing against the stones. Fire could be lit and kept alive on stone?

She didn't know that to be true, but special circumstances come with a special bird, she mentally declared.

"The light angles and warriors are batting for us, so worry not. The dark angles can't and won't survive forever," the girl cooed, kissing the birds' surprisingly soft feathers. "It'll all be over soon."