Omen and Owls
The campfire popped. Dean glanced over his s’more to see if I noticed he flinched. I grinned and he cleared his throat.
“You really like all this stuff?” He asked motioning to the tent and equipment.
“What’s not to like? You can hear the soothing sounds of the lake, crickets chirping, and look at those beautiful stars,” I said, staring at the sky.
“How about mosquitoes, bears, and the Sasquatch? No internet, no indoor plumbing, no freakin’ electricity?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t realize you’re such a diva.”
“I’m not a diva. I just prefer not to live like a caveman.”
I coughed, “Diva!”
“Shut up! My phone died an hour ago,” Dean said. “Stop laughing!”
An owl hooted in the distance.
“See that’s something you don’t hea-“ I paused. All the color drained from Deans face.
The owl hooted again. He jumped up, dropping his charred marshmallow.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, following his gaze.
“Did you hear that?” Dean whispered, eyeing the woods.
I raised an eyebrow. “Hear what? The owl?”
“Oh God you heard it too! No, no, no, no, no!”
“Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“It’s an omen. The cry of an owl means death,” he muttered, crossing himself.
“They do not. They symbolize wisdom. You had me genuinely worried jerk,” I said, tossing the bag of marshmallows at him. The bag bounced off his chest, spilling onto the ground.
“We have to leave,” he said, turning to look at me.
“You can’t be serious. We just set up camp.” My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and gasped.
“Jo, what is it?” Dean asked.
“Nothing,” I assured, still reading my phone.
“What,” he said over crossed arms.
“There’s an escaped prisoner, but it’s miles from here. Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not going to be murdered in the freakin’ woods by some axe wielding psycho. Let’s go!”
“Dude chill out. Let’s just go to sleep,” I said, unzipping the tent.
“Hell no! This is the start of every horror movie. Let’s go!” he pleaded.
“I’m not leaving. Are you going to leave your girlfriend all alone in the woods?” I asked with a scowl.
“Yes… Maybe… Damnit! Why do you have to be so stubborn?” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Genetics,” I shrugged.
We laid down with the tent unzipped so Mr. Scaredy-cat could see our surroundings. I was nearly asleep.
“Jo, did you hear that?” Dean asked.
“For the love of Go-”
Leaves rustled to my left. It sounded like someone walking quietly.
“I told you we should have freakin’ left.”
“Shhh.” I whispered.
The sound got closer. A figure walked out of the woods holding some kind of weapon that glinted in the fire light. I couldn’t make out their face, but it noticed us. After a moment it charged. Dean dove over me to get out of the tent. He ran towards the car screaming.
I stepped out of the tent laughing.
The figure pulled down their hood revealing Dean’s sister Charlie. “He’s going to need a fresh pair of undies after that!”
“Right? I love the part where he left me with an “escaped prisoner.”
“Courage in spades,” she laughed.
Something heavy stomped through the woods headed their way.
“Dean, I’m sorry it was just so easy,” I yelled.
“M-M… Monster!” she screamed, running up the same path Dean took.
“It’s not going to work on me!” I yelled after her.
A low growl sounded. I turned coming face to face with a large pair of yellow eyes. I squealed. Then the woods were silent, except for the hoot of an owl.
