ORIGINS: The eyebrows of the first character in the original series could be the wings of any bird. But for some reason we thought of owls, and the snakes that hide among their feathers. Death and poison. Or just knowledge and temptation. Either way, they make a lovely pair.
If I was an owl and there were snakes among the feathers of my wings, I think that I would close my eyes. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t shed a single tear, nor would I shake my wings to try and shed those snakes. I would just close my eyes, and dream, without giving those snakes an excuse to twist and tie themselves into number eights. Because my nights are already bad enough, I already live under fixed stars that will outlast me, and I refuse to trap myself in an eternity that would just be more of the same. Loop after loop after loop. I would rather close my eyes, and keep changing in my dreams.
The owl didn’t have enough stones for his pile, so, he took my eyes. Then he spread his wings, and for some reason decided to balance on one leg. I don’t know what he is trying to accomplish, and I will probably never find out, because he didn’t say thank you and I refuse to ask. But I know that there are snakes in that owl’s wings. Whispering, weighing him down, trying to make him fall. It won’t be from grace, because my eyes have seen too much and beautiful dreams don’t stick to them anymore. But it will hurt nonetheless. And I will settle for that.
It’s not a secret, I’m not hiding anything. If you think that knowledge can lead to anything other than the ugliest of outcomes, who am I to tell you otherwise? I am not an owl that has already seen how everything will play out. You probably know more about human nature than I do. And if you tell me that we learn from our mistakes, and some day we will make a better world, I will believe you. Knowledge has already allowed us to fly closer to the stars, and the price we had to pay to the snakes wasn’t so bad. You already call this a better world than the last, don’t you?
A snowy owl once told me that no two snowflakes were ever the same, and I just wish the same could be said about people. But the only thing that changes is the amount. Of greed. Of love. Of fear. Of hunger. Of hate. There is no real difference. Everybody comes with wings and snakes. And even though I tried to focus on the good parts, I couldn’t hold on to the beautiful words I wanted to keep in my heart. The closer I got, the uglier everybody became. Until the only word left in my heart was disappointment. And the knowledge that if the snakes had gotten rid of all the feathers long before I was born, I would at least have been spared some suffering in this life.
The snake left a while ago and the owl hasn’t flown after it. Its wings are spread, but there has been no sound, no wind, not even a melody. I want to pluck its feathers one by one, but it wouldn’t be the same. My spirit should have been a lyrebird, but all I got was a snake that seemed to hate me for no good reason and an owl that saw too much and never once tried to protect me. And now that the snake is gone, the owl mocks me. By spreading its wings. As if to cover me. As if to tempt me. But nothing tugs at my heartstrings anymore. All I have is this anger that leaves my eyes dry.
I used to keep a snake inside me. His name was Gut and I liked to feed him an owl a day. Not knowledge. Nothing that had been written down, to set a trap and lure little children like me closer. No, I used to keep my distance. I watched grown-ups from afar. And I fed my snake little bites of the future that one day would try to prey on me. It wasn’t long before my gut started hissing. In anger. In warning. Telling me when to bite my tongue, when to make myself scarce and when to fall in line. I made it through my childhood thanks to my snake, and the day my future became my present, I owed it to him to set him free. So I did. And now I have an owl, balancing on a pile of stones. The rules are finally mine to break and rewrite. For all those little children that are bound to fall into a trap.
The snake told me that if I asked nicely, she would lend me her venom. That my dream wouldn’t come true, no matter which bird lent me his wings, because even the most far-sighted owl would suffocate before touching the stars. The snake told me that I would probably fall to the ground without even having left the color blue behind, and that was all I would ever know. Broken bones, and a sadness that would never let them heal properly. But if I asked nicely, she would flash me her fangs and inject hope directly into my veins. She would teach me which words hurt the most, so that I could make sure that no one else succeeded where I had failed, and at least I never felt lonely under the color blue. And as you can see, I am almost done pondering which answer I should give.
Do you know what will happen when the snow finally melts? Something that used to be a river will shed its name and become a snake. But it won’t sink its fangs into the sea. That snake will be all hunger, but it won’t allow itself to be consumed by that need. The snake will stake its claim to the present, one owl at a time, until the future vanishes without a trace. No more dreams. No more expectations. Nothing to look forward to. The snake will make sure that when the Winter Owl comes back to cover everything in snow nothing will change. And when the snow melts, its skin will stay in place. No tears. No disappointment. Nothing will be shed. Because the snake refuses to let a jaded grown-up steal its life.
If you want to be happy, if you want to fly, let the snakes be. Don’t try to pluck them from your wings just because they are ugly and covered in dirt. I have been told all my life that nobody is perfect, and I have learned the hard way that it is best if you don’t even try to be good. Because they will come for your feathers, and if you aren’t careful, you will find yourself buried in the ground. So, embrace your snakes, and be as human as everybody else.
Do you like the smell of wet earth? I prefer the smell of lightning myself. When the owl flaps its wings and all the snakes hurry back home, to make new memories, that will just be more of the same, because people don’t change. The owl tries its best. Every day there is new knowledge to be gained. New discoveries that bring us closer to the stars. But people don’t change. They don’t learn. It’s an endless repetition. And I am glad that at least someone feels at home in such an eternity. Because otherwise it would be too sad for words, and my tears would only add to the rain.
Rejoice! You are alive! Welcome, welcome, welcome to the antechamber of Eternity! Soon you will die, and the snakes will lead you to a wonderful, starlit place where everything will make sense and you won’t feel lost anymore. But you would do well to remember that the snakes hate change. Don’t let their old skins fool you. Once you set foot in Eternity, your name will be written in stone. So, you should at least try to find something to love about yourself, and do your best not to lose it while you wait.
The feathers of that owl remind me of daisy petals, and I have made up my mind. I will let them decide, whether I listen to the snakes or to the sky. I don’t have a preference. I am too young to have formed an attachment that will last or one that won’t be easily replaced. So, this is me being a child and letting someone else decide, whether I grow into a good person or a bad one.