Flash Fiction - by Timothy Wilkie
Timothy Wilkie is a Breaking Rules Publishing writer. He has 4 books in the BRP bookstore with a new one on the way - Breathless - The Corn Maze - Up River - Ice Pack - if you like the stories below, we would suggest checking out his other books - the links are below.
The Owl Called My Name
by Timothy Wilkie
The Shaman looked at me and studied closely the lines on my face. “The face before me is flawless. Why do you fret so? The world is a place of beauty.”
“ The young have visions,” I told him.
“You must listen to the moon-mother.” He replied. “Your time will come. You are still small. Too small to make the journey to the sacred place.”
“Standing on these dunes makes me taller,” I said.
“They do,” he agreed. “But there is more to growing up than just getting taller. Do not wish your heart to grow old too soon.”
“If I take the prayer meal of corn pollen and nectar will that make me as wise as you?”
Resting his claws on his belly and putting his antlers back he laughed and laughed. “You will have your time of visions. Someday the Owl will call your name. Your day will come little Two Worlds. Your day will come.
Cast as white lands, the wilderness arose. The green was buried in a frosting of ice and snow. It was a fire singeing freeze long remembered after the spring melt. It was my first winter. The oaks were barren and twisted and the crystal icicles hung. But with gathering winds the season passed as it stirred amid the golden reeds. Slowly the seasons passed until the day the Shaman came to me. “It is time for you to make the passage.” He said. “Soon the Owl will call your name.”
“In the spirit?” I asked.
“You will make breath.” He replied. “You will spring forth from the flesh and make the passage, Little Two Worlds.”
“When?” I asked.
“Soon,” he replied, “very soon.”
I knew I must follow the path of life on a god cloud to a holy place and that the journey was very dangerous. So hard was the trip that the instant you broke through to the other side the Owl made you forget and you were rendered speechless. It was terrifying.
The birds cried out to me on the wind, the wolf howled at the moon, and I thought I remembered that I could go back to the Pollen Path. A thousand lifetimes ago. Back to when the birds and all the creatures were alike. My soul was eternal. It was a tree, a bird, and me.
The great sea below me moved through me like the multiverse. My soul drifted on along the Pollen Path. I stuck to the places I remembered like seaweed on a rocky shore. I trembled with fear at the very thought of passage, but I knew it was coming and nothing could stop it.
“There was a time before time.” The Shaman told me. “It was called the Ether. It was a time of magic and wonder.”
I knew this. It was when the mist of passion was born into the physical world with lust, want, and desire. “With my vision, I saw the light and it protected you in a cloak of night.” The Shaman whispered in my ear so only I could hear.
The spirit of the wolf flows deep inside me as it roams the wilderness and stalks in silent shadows. “May you lend me your primal strength and the wisdom of your glowing eyes so I may seek the truth wherever it hides.” I prayed
“Mother Earth below you and Father Sky above. Sister Sun will heal the pain of passage and bring you, love. I do not say that being born to the flesh will be easy. I am only saying that when you are called it will be worth it, Little Two Worlds. So say I the Owl of Earth and Sky.”