The Smiling Owl: Difference between revisions
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(Created page with "With a terrible taste in my mouth, I awoke from a slumber that seemed so deep I would never emerge. Having gone to bed at 1:17 am, it was now only 2:47 am. My hour and a half of sleep had seemed infinity longer than that, filled with twists and turns of the subconscious dream state. But now, reality was all too real. When I say this taste in my mouth was terrible, I don’t mean that standard gopher shit breath every middle aged man has when he wakes up. This taste was v...") |
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With a terrible taste in my mouth, I awoke from a slumber that seemed so deep I would never emerge. Having gone to bed at 1:17 am, it was now only 2:47 am. My hour and a half of sleep had seemed infinity longer than that, filled with twists and turns of the subconscious dream state. But now, reality was all too real. When I say this taste in my mouth was terrible, I
My bare feet touched the cold, hard ground of my new studio apartment, and I walked past my bedroom window and into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I opened my mouth in hopes of identifying the source of the taste, only to find that my tongue was covered in white gunk; almost like plaque. Confused, I then brushed my tongue and teeth to eliminate the taste, to no avail.
Beginning to become restless, I then went into the kitchen. Opening the cabinets one by one, I had my mind set on finding something to cut through this terrible flavor. The best option I found was lemon juice, and began downing it like water. Frustratingly enough, the liquid glided over the plaque on my tongue like a protective film, never even touching my taste buds. Throwing the lemon juice to the ground, I went back into my bedroom.
Suddenly and all at once, I was aware of a presence. A warm, throbbing, almost painful sensation came over me; almost like an external source of nerve stimuli, boldly yet calmly letting me know that I
For the longest time, I was paralyzed, staring into
It was 10 minutes later when the swelling began. In addition to the writhing pain that had not let up one iota, now my tongue felt like it was being inflated with air from the inside. Barely able to close my mouth, I ran past my window again towards my bedside; the owl was still there with a smile as big as ever. Reaching for a bottle of ibuprofen, I try to down a handful at once, hoping it will help the swelling. I was unable to swallow though, and the pills fell abruptly out of my mouth.
Nothing seemed to be helping, and in a complete act of desperation, I ran back to the kitchen, past the smiling owl and to the silverware drawer. Opening it, I reluctantly pulled out my sharpest serrated steak knife. Holding my breath, I punctured my tongue with the knife, hoping the wound would release some of the pressure. Instead, all my muscles tightened around the knife hole, making my
Disgusted and mortified, I kicked it across the floor into the bedroom and closed the kitchen door so as not to see it, and even worse, not to hear it; flapping around. Plugging my mouth with paper towels, trying desperately to maintain the bleeding, I sat crouched in the corner, suspended by shock and disbelief. As my heart rate finally slowed, I was still frozen with fear. So many thoughts were rushing through my mind, they were almost indecipherable.
That owl had smiled at me through the window. It is anatomically impossible for an owl to smile. Overcome with a raw sense of primordial dread, I realized the truth.
After waiting, I slowly opened the kitchen door to find that the severed tongue was gone. Approaching the bloody pool on the ground, I looked out the window once more, which was now strangely open. Staring back at me with crimson eyes, the owl was still perched on the branch, however now, it was poised to open
Once I awoke, the owl was nowhere to be found. The bleeding in my mouth had clotted and I immediately got my things together and headed to the hospital. Once I was in the emergency room, having to communicate with a pad and pencil, I informed the chief surgeon where I came from. A look of general unease came over his face as he reluctantly told me that the previous tenant of my apartment came in exactly one month prior, mysteriously missing all of her teeth.
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