The Owl Lady - Original Horror Flash Fiction by Dominick Rabrun
The Owl Lady
by Dominick Rabrun
Illustration by Dominick Rabrun
The last time any of us saw the Owl Lady was on the playground of P.S. 135. The sun was high and hot, casting harsh light over everything, making the world feel as stark and surreal as her presence in it. By then, we’d all forgotten what life had been like before her. She’d been our teacher as long as we could remember, leading us in strange, twisted games, hooting with her head twisting unnaturally on her long neck as we chanted her rules back to her. None of us knew how to stop her. And though we all felt what she was doing to us, it seemed like I was always the one she punished and exiled, put on the edge of her circle.
That day, I was sitting apart from the group again, tossing small pebbles into the air to keep my hands busy. The other kids moved around the Owl Lady in a circle, their shoulders sagging, some of them crying, their eyes vacant, caught in her pull, mesmerized by her hoots and commands.
I don’t know what came over me, but as I tossed one insignificant hot rock, it slipped out of my hand with unexpected force, sailing across the playground and striking her square in the neck. THWAP. The sound echoed, sharp and hollow. Her hooting laugh stopped abruptly, and a thick silence spread across the playground.
In that instant, she began to shrink, her long arms snapping into wings, her wide eyes collapsing and bulging again in a cartoony, half-finished way—like the middle of an Animorphs transformation, where it’s so twisted up you just want them to pick a side and end it.
The Owl Lady gave me one last, accusatory look, then spread her wings and took off, soaring toward the sun. Dark feathers burst from her in all directions, floating down on us like ash. As she flew away, I felt something release inside me, like someone was wiping off a layer of thick, smelly gunk that had been coating my brain and my insides.
The other kids blinked and looked around, dazed, as if waking from a long dream. One by one, they turned to stare at me—some of them sobbing, others gasping—as they slowly gathered around where I sat on the ground, pebbles still clutched in my hand.
Another teacher—one from before the Owl Lady—hurried over, shouting for us to get to our school buses, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the owl in the sky, watching her fade into a dark speck against the bright sun, leaving us behind.
Watch the visual companion piece on my YouTube channel.
Exclusive blog about the making of this and the real story that inspired it here on my Patreon.
Dominick Rabrun is a multidisciplinary artist and writer focused on Caribbean-American speculative fiction, horror, and experimental art. His work explores identity, myth, and memory through immersive narratives and striking visuals.