Michelle Kane

When I opened my eyes, I saw a creature perched upon my chest.

I couldn't see past its eyes, Ophelia.

I have never seen such large orbs before.

They looked like the giant eggs of that African bird the captain showed us.

Only they were black instead of white.

They were on a living creature, but

There was no life in those eyes.

Though they held no soul, they were full of stars, as if I were looking into the heavens.

Stars so thick, I could have swum in them.

This creature was drinking the very breath from my body as it crouched there on my chest.

I think it finally meant to kill me that night.

I think it would have, if not for the owl.

The bird was thrashing its claws and wings against my chamber window until the panes blew inward and the bird came in with them, so much larger than it seemed once it was inside.

Its wings filled the room and its talons opened wide as my head.

It grasped the being on my person and carried it out and up into the winter night.

I had sparse breath left to scream, but I rose out of the bed enough to latch the window panes and found strength enough to shove the wardrobe in front of it.

I forbade the steward for moving it out of that position, even though I've taken to sleeping in other rooms.

It has made no difference, Ophelia.

That damn bird is still there, night after night, perched upon the sill beyond whatever glass the room holds.

Even on the nights I've taken to sleeping in the servants' quarters, where there are no windows to peer through, I can still feel its eyes watching me through the very wall itself.