It was 4:00 at the morning. I was on the roof smoking the last cigarette before going to bed. I usually don't sleep until the first light of the morning hit my window. I love the night. The day is a rush, you can hardly get your mind on something, but at night everything seems to be clear. The dimmer the light, the more clearly you got to see things.
The night is silent, just like a city after a storm, fresh and calm. The clouds, all white in moonlight as the moon stays hidden behind them, and the orange ventral part of the cloud reflecting the city lights and the zephyr with silent sound it carries but still quiet enough that you can hear your cigarette burning and the wind lighter enough that the smoke can fly a little above before it dissolve in it.
The night is better. But that night it was dark. The city light got faded halfway before reaching the clouds. The stars so bright that its visible through the thin clouds. And the night so calm that you can hear your own breathe and heartbeat. Suddenly I felt I saw something in front of me. The same old owl sitting on the telephone wire which I see almost every night. But it was wounded. I can clearly see the scar and the broken feathers in its left wing. I was heart broken. Because its the only owl I've seen in the place. A white fluffy beautiful owl.
I couldn't help it being far away and also I don't think it'll appreciate my help anyway. But I felt really sorry for it and helpless at the same time. I don't know why I felt that but because maybe it was a different bird from those I usually see everyday. Maybe I got accustomed to watching it every night. Maybe because sometimes it give me a look with its wide eyes and its just so adorable.
I feared that if the wound got worsen then I might not see it anymore. But the weird thing is that, it never came to my mind "how was it wounded?". I only feared losing the small moment we shared most the nights.
My cigarette was over and I put it out but didn't threw the butt fearing I might scare it. Instead I put it aside.
I took a deep breath and stared at it for a while. I just wished it could just fly to me so that I can help. But it was in its own world. Maybe it didn't have noticed me that night. But despite of its wound, it was looking beautiful and adorable. I didn't know what to do if it were mine but still I wished it were mine. Because it was such a beauty.
Suddenly my roommate called me from behind and at once I left the place abandoning all the little thoughts I had in my mind, and the bird.
Few more nights passed and eventually weeks.
I almost forgot the bird for because I didn't see it for the period maybe, I didn't remember. But suddenly one night I realize that I haven't seen the bird for weeks. It was gone.
I don't know what happened to it but I could just imagine the obvious. And then I realized that I miss her now.
Nights are just like a stage where strange acts happens every time. The acts are so pure and real that you always get the messages straight. The night are the great writer of all time. And even the audience are the part of the play. The acts are strange but beautiful. The scenario is same but matches every mood perfectly. The night is calm but strong. Beautiful but dangerous. And when the day starts, night seems to be like a lesson, which teaches you how to survive the day.
Night are the time in your life when life actually happens. When you are alive and not a machine working for survival. Night is the time when you are ready to live and die.
Night is the time when you meet something not remotely connected to your life and feel its presence;
Just like the owl.