The Owl-Girl

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“I’m an owl,” she said.

The wide-eyed stare I gave her looked far more owl-like than she did.

“You don’t believe me?”

“You have no feathers,” I replied.

“My feathers are on the inside.”

“Inside?”

“Yes. I was born with my wings inside, my feathers, beak and talons, too.” She cocked her head to one side as if to prove it. “Do you believe me now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to believe, but I doubt very much you’re an owl even if you think you are.”

“I could eat a mouse,” she suggested.

“No! I mean, please, no.”

“Too late,” she hooted and reached inside her fluffy coat.

The girl pulled out a white chocolate mouse, licked its nose, then swallowed it whole.

“My apologies,” I said in an effort to humour her. “You are indeed an owl.”

“Yes,” she said licking her lips. “Now, tell me, how long have you been a rabbit?”

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50 Word Stories: Just Hanging

Motionless, we hung from the balcony rail not daring to move. A dare gone wrong, prank gone bad, the ground looked distant from the wrong side of the rails. What scared me most, though, was Sarah’s eyes. Wide and wild, all they said was jump. My fingers twitched. She smiled.