There was an owl on a stack of my textbooks. Its feathers were the color of snow; its deep yellow eyes were staring right at me.
"Oh, hell no." I reached into my shoe closet, dropped my sneakers, and picked up my broom. I brandished it at the animal in my house. "Get out of here."
It didn't flinch; it just gave me an apathetic blink.
I wasn't having any of this bullshit, and I wasn't about to be sucked into some magical world, so I whacked the owl. Needless to say, it wasn't in my house for very long.
YOU ARE READING
Snow On The Tombstones: A Collection of Flash Fiction and Vignettes
Short StoryA young man makes a serious mistake; an extraterrestrial explorer makes contact with an old temple; a group of friends sneak into an amusement park after hours; we are all tombstones; we are all here and gone.
