Cedes carried a silver pen and notebook with her which she kept in the inside pocket of her coat. If she didn’t put thoughts on paper, they would just be space rock floating around the atmosphere. There would be no way to solve anything in her mind; no breath to rest upon. She scrawled in the front of her notebook “My Moon Moth Diary”. It pleased her to think of a moth’s wing as a page and its nerves as the life blood of the tremors from her pen. She fell asleep by the owl light in Alistair’s room. Alistair arrived shortly after to find her sprawled across the bed with the silver pen and notebook by her side. He tucked her in. It had been a long night.
Cedes woke up at dawn with a start to a loud scratching noise on the desk in front of her bed. She sat up to meet with a white tawny owl looking at her. She remained motionless. The book of new thoughts was open on the desk. Suddenly, the bird swooped over to her bed. Cedes reached out her hand and began to stroke its soft face. “Where did you come from?” she asked it. She picked it up and felt its warmth. Its claws dug into her dress. She placed the bird on her shoulder and went to look at the book of new thoughts. In the “O” section she looked to see the word owl, and across from it read, “What does it mean to be a friend? It is clear you will never see him again”.
She had been dreaming of him again. She began to question whether he was ever a friend. Sometimes she felt like she lived in an empty grey tin can of sardines with the residue of oil stuck to the sides and the permanent smell of dead fish. This statement acted like a warm ray of sunshine, piercing through the murkiness. Alistair held the door open in disbelief. “Where did the…” he pointed. Alistair looked over at the owl light on the bedside. “I don’t know. Can we keep it?” Cedes replied. “What happened?” he asked. “I don’t know anything anymore. I’m just beginning to accept things for how crazy they are. I woke up to this loud scratching on the desk and this was what I found.”
“What about the book?” Alistair looked at the book open behind her. “I think the message is for me”, she motioned. “It is under the word owl, and says, “What does it mean to be a friend? It is clear you will never see him again. ”
“Who is he?”
“I think…” she said. The phone rang. They both stared at it emitting its siren sound. It rang out twice. “What will we call him?” Cedes piped up. She was very absorbed with her new friend. Alistair was decidedly more distracted. “Where is this book taking us? It all feels out of control”, he said, denting the silence and pacing nervously around the room. “Somehow I don’t feel worried. I think I’ll call him Frost. He looks like frost.” Alistair paused and relaxed into the stillness that moved his erratic heartbeat. “I need more sleep”, he said and left the room. Cedes did not want to sleep. This day was made for looking after her beautiful friend, Frost.
Lena O’ Connell
Lena O’ Connell graduated from the Limerick School of Art and Design in 2009. She specialised in fine art, sculpture. Lena currently lives and works in Tipperary, Ireland. She teaches art to children and is aspiring to undertake a higher diploma in art teaching.
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