The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

Author on Reedsy Prompts since May, 2020

Stories (18)

18 Stories

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“Honor for the Dead” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

It was the most extraordinary thing she had ever held.And Petra had no idea what to do with it. The whip coiled in her hands like a serpent's tail, sleek and shining. It was cool to the touch, and as she ran the length of the weapon through her fingers, it felt almost like she was holding water. But she wasn’t. She was holding the skin of a dragon. The girl had to admit it was beautiful, but even as she did so, a part of her cringed. Wasn’t it weird to ...

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“Lost and Found” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

(this story contains some swearing)He was hiding. He was hiding, and there was a tree behind him, keeping him from view. He put a hand over his mouth and stifled a giggle.“Oh Remus,” A voice drifted towards him playfully. “Where are you?” the voice sang.Remus’ arms felt all jittery. It was hard staying in place, like he wanted to move about and run.  “I know you’re out here!”Remus felt himself smiling. He knew they were looking for both of them...

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“In Reverence” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

They all felt it when it happened. It rocked, then tilted back, like a lurching boat righting itself against a rogue wave. The world sailed onward, yet the water still rippled. They tried not to speak of that irreversible moment, and in muttered conversations, they loudly refused to ignore it. The Veil had cracked, a pointless sliver quickly swallowed up again by the Space between Here and There.  A spirit had given up their spirithood.  No one had bothered to look for what he might have left behind. The ...

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“Thicker Than Blood” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

Ethan winced slightly as he slid his bedroom window closed again. Most of the adrenaline in his system from the fight had dissipated, but that didn’t stop his nerves from feeling like a bow string pulled too tightly. So long as he didn’t start another fight, he could wait off the need to recharge until after dinner. Any activity that didn't involve fight or flight (or probably just “fight” if he was being realistic), was fair game. Ethan sighed deeply and awkwardly squirmed out of his school uniform and into a t-shirt...

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“Birds of a Feather” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

The pathway echoed with footsteps like the pattering of agitated heartbeats. Sariah seemed to storm across the neatly fitted stone pieces, dark green cloak fluttering behind her. A shorter figure skated after her, ebony curls bouncing in her wake. “Sariah! Sariah, slow down!”She halted suddenly, turning on her heel with a brief skid. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” She blurted, hands held out in a calming gesture. Sariah’s brow was furrowed slightly, her shoulders bowed downward tiredly. “I just-- I didn’t want to explain ...

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“Countdown” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

(Note:) You can skip reading this if you want but you should know that this story probably ended up being darker than what I normally come up with.--(( I added the tag of horror because there’s some creepy but mostly ambiguous language. WARNING: this is probably a bit disturbing (from person to person), but because I don’t want to spoil the point of the story, read at your own risk I guess ))---XXX-Something was wrong. A dull ache at the back of my skull insisted on it, lurking there ...

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“Peppermint Bark” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

This was not the way that Michael’s day was supposed to be going.“Mr Douglas,” He muttered. “I mean no offence... but this is really stupid.”The wizard in question only shushed him. “No it’s not,” Séan corrected him. “This is brilliant, I told you I’d bring you with me if anything peculiar happened. This is your chance to potentially learn something in the field about my… community.” He supplied.“So we’re going to Mrs Cambell’s bakery.” Michael deadpanned.“We’re investigating her bakery.”The hig...

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“The Sun Rises (Continuation of Once....Time)” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

It had been twenty four years since she had last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The houses and the streets, and the change in architecture from the North Warren, to the Eastern Groves, to the center of the hills. The fields of food and the plows and donkeys; the market streets, the wood smoke, the laughter. The cool wet soil, dark as pale obsidian, the clear water of the running streams. The towering o...

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“The Devil You Know” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

Gulls circled above Tidefail harbor. Captain Alarick Cortez walked through the weak market of the dying seaport with his head held down beneath his cap. The most prominent sale was seafood. Often raw with pearly lifeless eyes, the smell of their peeling scales could waft for miles in the summer. Alarick was familiar with the fins and claws, sometimes even tentacles. So many foreign and wild things having their corpses traded off for silver and bronze.Alarick left the crowded streets behind, walking along the stained and uneven cobb...

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“That Night” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

It was a beautiful night for a walk, but no honest and good people would ever dare to venture into the woods. It was a place for devils and ghosts after all. And ghosts there were upon this of all nights. Those who had more substance than others would go seeking their families, and some would succeed. But many would wander muttering amongst the druids until the next sun rose in the East. A few fluttering spirits brushed against the edge of a settlement, nothing that those with clear sight would find unusual. But on this year, ...

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“Rebecca” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

It was a beautiful day for disaster. The gleaming sunlight pooling around the fluffy white clouds promised a dry afternoon. Even the poorer folk in Philadelphia turned their heads upward in unspoken gratitude, drinking in the beams of heaven like the lush green blades of grass that forked through the cracks of the outer pavement. It was 1776.Rebecca Howe was in the middle of a performance, but nothing like the ones few could afford to watch. The widow smiled beautifully at the man on the other side of the counter as she slid him a ...

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“Curled Leaves” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

Leaflitter wasn’t supposed to taste like this. Michael took another tentative sip of the warm drink. Even the smell seemed spot on, it was earthy and rich, with undertones of drying plant life. It was smooth and firm, and the taste on his tongue curled like piles of crisp autumn leaves. Leaflitter wasn’t supposed to taste like this. It wasn’t supposed to taste good. It should probably be muddy, not clean and calming.The young man looked up to match the obviously pleased face of his employer. “It’s good?” He smi...

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“Once Upon a Time” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

Mae knew that Athene Barclay was beautiful. Quite frankly she couldn't imagine anyone who didn’t think so. Athene was a legend, a myth clad in leather and chain mail. She was a large figure, like a walking statue lunging straight out of a storybook, with fierce emerald eyes shadowed under fiercer dark eyebrows. But Athene was a legend, and legends weren’t a part of the real world. They were fantastic, but distant, like glittering starlight. And that, Mae had decided, was all that such a woman would ever be.

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“Unnatural Distasters” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

The night was alive. Not even a flicker of stars could be seen in the swirling abyss of the storm. Window panes trembled, and the entire house shook, echoing the power of the sky. It was a dark and stormy night, made even darker the moment the yellow ceiling lights flickered to black. It felt so quiet in the few moments after the light died. It didn’t sound quiet, but it felt that way, a yawning gap of something...

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“Far Far Away” by The-Burrowing-Owl- Author

Flint sat with his back pressed to the marble walls of the school. They were cold in the early morning air, but they were dry. Dew littered the grass of the garden in front of him like diamonds dropped onto emerald ribbons, but the roof above the walkway had blocked the rain from last night. A steadily approaching metronome of heeled boots made his skin prickle, but he refused to turn his head. He figured that staring at the newcomer would be awkward. Flint rose to his feet when she was nearly on top of him. “Good ...

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Author bio

It is said that if you give an infinite amount of monkeys typewriters, one of them will eventually write Hamlet. The same experiment was done with a confused burrowing owl face planting onto a keyboard. It decided to make a Reedsy account to get some literary feedback. I’m trying to be an author– I don’t know what I’m doing. Let's see how this goes