Found this bit of flash fiction gathering electronic dust on my hard drive yesterday and thought I may as well share it.
The dream of the owl
The owl and I are one, unholy hybrid of bird and man. Hot blood flows through our veins; every nerve in our body is alive to the touch of the wind as we perch above the clearing.
We watch and we wait. Through our eyes we can see the world perfectly, 270 degree stereoscopic vision, every fluttering blade of grass is ours to behold.
A vole scampers into the clearing, sniffing the air. Darting movements carry him deeper into the open expanse in jittery fits and starts.
We wait, allowing the scurrying creature to grow bolder.
There is a barely audible snap as we take to the air, talons extended in one smooth motion. The vole looks up. For the space of one momentary avian heartbeat we can see my impassive hunter’s face reflected in his shining, fear-stricken eyes, growing larger until he slips beneath us.
Our talons pluck him from the earth with barely a whimper leaving only a few flattened blades of grass in our wake. Our powerful wings beat the sky, pushing great swathes of air behind us, eager now to return to our perch and enjoy our catch.
We fly back through the darkened forest; he is my guide, hunting companion and teacher. We are the same: together, yet somehow apart