Owl be seeing you

Owl be seeing you

         “The owls are not what they seem.” — The Giant, Twin Peaks

Why do we have eyes if not to use them? You ask as if I'd know.

I am blind. I hear my thoughts swirling in colors, dull moaning blues and sparkly yellows. I was sighted when I was born.

My hands guide me along the walls of the castle. My feet feel the grass or stones. I sense the heat of noon. The moon is a mystery. In truth, it always was.

I know the bitter from the sweet and the subtleties of umami. I know the tones of a joyful voice turned into despair.

I am blind. I'm not dead.

Why do you have eyes if you don't use them?

I felt the whoosh of an owl swoop over me last night. I swear it was whispering my name. I'm not ready quite yet to follow it into the nether realm.

I've been there.

It was calm, peaceful, boring.

The owls ruled that place. They preferred the hush of it. Only they were allowed to give a hoot. Literally.

The ghosts of others would arrive in silence and leave without words. Their words had been stolen.

Only the living and the owls held that wisdom.

I wanted my voice back.

So I made a deal. They could keep my eyes.

I've been invisible for decades since. No one notices an old man dressed in old clothes... as long as it's black. No one questions my cane. They may have eyes but they don't see. Blinded in their own way, they ignore the owls that visit me. I move among them unfettered by sight.

I move slowly, silently, as stealthily as an owl on a new-moon night.

I share my wisdom only with those who see me. I like it that way.

© Kåre Enga (29.oktober.2024)

~295 words

Original in "Story #10 Owl be seeing you"