The Barn ~ Straw

Barnowlfolk tended to live isolated lives. We lived fairly uniquely in shrub-land. I lived surrounded by prairie and open woodland. A dessert a short trip away. I lived in a barn I built. Surrounded by nothing. I can see mountain ranges in the very distance. They’re all I have for company. It’s the way I prefer things. I fly swooping downward, I knock an arrow. The rabbit doesn’t have a chance. I kneel by its lifeless form.

“May the God of Barn Owls light your way to peace in the afterlife, and thank you for this meal.” I say bowing my head in prayer. I pick up the rabbit by the arrow. I fly back. The barn and its floor is wood. That wall have been painted white, but turned almost grey with time. I start a fire in the old fashion, black, medal fire place. I cook it over the fire then eat it. Closing the little door. Next time maybe I’ll cook it in a cauldron on the top. I have all the time in the world to decide. The barn has three stalls. The ground is covered with straw. The loft above is covered with hay bails. The tree stalls holds one cow for milk. It used to hold three. When me, my parents, and my brother lived here. My parents passed away when we were young, and my older brother moved out shortly after. He always said I talked gruffly, and moved though life slowly. Rain patter the roof. I look at the other half of my barn. A simple hatchling sized bed. A few wooden chairs, a small, square table. Two small dressers my father carved for his hatchlings sit against the wall. As I button on my night shirt I think I hear something, but it’s hard to tell over the thunder. There it is again. Is it a wild animal? A bird? A coyote? If it’s a bird I need to save it from the storm. I open the door. It’s a hatchling. A Barnowlfolk hatchling. They can’t be any older than eighteen. I let them in out of the rain. They go right up to the fireplace.

“What were you thinking out in that storm?” They turn to me.

“Hi.” They say shivering. “My name is Wheat. I’m your niece. She, her.” She’s fluttering around the barn. She flys up to the loft, lays in my bed, and pets my cow. “What’s her name?”

“Lassie. Get down from there. Stop touching my things.” I wait for her feet to touch the ground. “Now what are you doing here?” Her face grows suddenly solemn. Her sparkling green eyes, my brother is green eyes, dull. The whimsical curiosity is gone.

“My fathers dead. I never knew my mother. You’re the only kin I have left. He’s dead.” I sigh taking a seat. She sits next to me.

“How?”

“Crashing during flight.” He was always a reckless flyer.

“Was he married?”

“No.”

“Your mom-“

“Never even told her name.” She pulls her hair back into a ponytail.

“Did you live in a barn with him too.”

“Yeah but it was bigger and nicer than this one. I- I mean well furnish.”

“I’m just one person I don’t need a lot.”

“I don’t need a lot either. Please let me stay!” She pulls out a small pouch of coin. I push her hand back. I don’t know if I’m up for this kind of responsibility, but if I am, I’m certainly not gonna make family pay. I’d have to go out traveling trade for some things. She’ll need some clothes. I’ll need to whittle some more bowls. She can use the open dresser.

“You can take my bed.” She hugs me. She takes to the air.

“Can I sleep up there?” She points to the hay loft.

“The loft?” She nods.

“If you think you’ll be warm enough.” I say handing her a blanket and pillow. She flys up and makes a bed out of a pile of loose hay. Been the sun even sets I wake her up.

“Come on. If you’re going to stay with me, you can do a few chores. Milk Lassie.”

“How do I do that?” She asks. Did my brother teach this girl anything. Turns out he’s a fast learner.

“Good.” I say. She hugs the cow.

“Right we’ll come on. I’ll make some breakfast.” I don’t have much right now, but I make do with what I have. I pour us each a glass of milk. There’s a few cupboards in the corner with the counter space. A makeshift kitchen. I remember my mom baking bread there. When we’re done eating, I say,

“Do you want to go shopping with me?” I ask. She grins nodding. When we come back we everything we need, and a lot of things we don’t need, I start whittling. She watches transfix. “Now you got to be prepared to do some hard work, and I live the simple life up here. Think you’ll be ok with that?” She nod.

“What are you making?”

“Here.” I toss it to her.

“It’s an owl!”

“Right let’s go hunting.” I do the hunting. I kneel down like before.

“What are you doing?”

“Praying. Your father never taught you how to give thanks.” That’s how Barnowlsfolk did it. Probably other Folk too. It’s our parents did it. How they taught us to do it.

“ my dad didn’t teach me a lot of things.” This girl never would’ve survived on her own.

“You deserve better than your father.”

“Well now I have you.”

“And you’ll always have me. Here and in the after.”