Elijah's Story

Prologue

[ ??? POV ]

           What's this? A tragedy happened in the land of white, soft snow. An avalanche? A snowstorm? Whatever it was, three bodies were found - wings crushed, structures were broken. A discussion was made and decided to give the family a chance. The two fathers, frail looking as we boomed our voices to them, "If you wish for a second chance, you may wish to become a spirit of your kind. If not, you are welcome to rest on."

          "What about our son?" One of them asked weakly. He stretched his white wings to him, as far as he could, reaching to him was not a choice he could do. We replied softly to both of them, "He will be alright. He wants to experience things he has seen over the mountains." The two snowy owls looked at each other, nodding as they concluded to live on, watching over their son.

          "Then so be it." Their spirits, their souls, fading off as we turned to the owlet, "If you wish for a second chance, you may wish to become a spirit of your kind. If not, you are welcome to rest on." We repeated as the owlet sobbed that he did not want to die repeatedly. That was his answer, so we gave it to him.

         "You will soon wake up, fresh and new, you may choose the appearance that you want. And please do not lose your touch on your soul; please believe," we whispered, leaving the rubble mixed with broken branches and tree barks. What was next was to wait for the next command to be sent. 

        Our roles are to give chances to lives in this middle realm. What these humans have called their realm, planet full of life and dirt - Earth. These chances were to let them live on as a spirit that they will be assigned to or to rest on. Many types of spirits from animals to elemental to beyond the stars. Many lives have been given chances, many took for granted and many to be given at this very moment. We do not rest, we do not need it. They are given a role if we chose to. A few of these living creatures know our existence and kept their knowledge of us for their understanding and studies, passing it on to another of who they trust, they kept it hidden as we allow it. As they are given a second chance to live, they shouldn't lose their own soul. One who lacks the will to live will soon fade and join the rest. What they have done with their second lives will determine where they will go as they soon fade.

        Whatever they did, we won't interfere with the spirits unless necessary. We stand and wait. Our roles are set and have to be done and we have been doing it for millennia. Those who came and thought if we were gods. We doubt so as we do not know. All we do are our roles that were given to us. We only let them to whatever they believe. All we do are to give chances and to interfere with only spirits if necessary.

        Discussions were currently made for this young owlet - Who will we send? Which kind? When? All we do now was wait for the outcome that will happen to this fresh new spirit.

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        A young body, half buried in the snow, slowly flutters his eyes open. Long white lashes beating the lower lash, bits of snow bouncing off. Bright yellow pupils staring at the now clear blue sky. He felt his fingers, his palms underneath the snow and tries to move them, arcing his elbows as he got up. A thin, warm grey tattered shirt and matching tattered pants touched against his skin. He looked down to his pants, white strands of hair falling down to his face. Confused, he lifts his hands up, facing it.

      "Hands... are these mine?" He thought as he attempts to pinch his barely beige skin. It hurts. He hurriedly tries to stand up and failed. He tries again and falls again. After several tries, he successfully stood up. Barefooted, his pants only reaching to his knees. He shivered profusely from the time he woke up so, he hugged himself, wrapping his arms and looked around. He jumped and fell.

      "What?" He thought. He tried to look behind him but fails so, he kept on turning and turning only to find out his wings were not there. Realization hits and he starts running straight ahead, falling countless of times but kept on running to find shelter from this freezing cold as his thoughts kept repeating, " I'm that two-legged beast called humans. I'm human! I'm human! I'm human! How do they even live with this really thin thing on my body and with this kind of body in this kind of area!?" A young child, running aimlessly in the snowy field, huffing and puffing out air as he starts screaming joyously, thinking, "I'm not dead!" He stopped his tracks and turned around. He didn't got that far but seeing the rubble from the avalanche, he gasped and ran back there. 

     "Papa! Baba!" He tried to voice out but came out weird. That's his voice. Very weird sounding. Few broken trees lying about, broken branches everywhere. He found a small white bird afar from the tree. He picked it up and saw, it's him. His original body. 

      He placed the bird back down and headed towards the tree. He started picking up broken tree branches; small ones, big ones or actually, the ones he could carry. Searching and searching, he found his nest, twigs and ruffled feathers everywhere. He looked further up and saw his parents. Wings spread, broken, both of them facing each other, bright red spread everywhere. All is dull, black and white, tears streaming down his face as he tried to make words. All you can hear were his screams, mourning for his parents. His parents never came back like he did. He felt guilty, selfish and alone. He'd stay with them, to die again to be with them but he wasn't allowed to. He remembered what they said. To not lose your touch on his soul. He left, running to where he headed, sobbing and screaming, mourning and trying to find shelter.