In the City of Blinding Nights one family reigns above all…
A Serious Hoot
He took off his hat and hung it by the door.
“I have one demand,” he said. “Not my right side.” Then pointed at a silver-grey line next to his right ear.
“I’m not ready to show my crown of glory just yet. Not in this all-seeing world: a sign of weakness at the least. My image should say bird of night. And this argent, off-putting line makes me look…Shall we say…Conspicuous. At night. And it’s not right, you see? Right! Shall we start? Let me put on my glasses. Do they sit straight?”
Unlike Father Like Owl
Father says being young is a temporary gift. Like the full moon. And not to capture it constitutes a capital crime. His exact words. I tend to agree with Father. Most of the times. To his face at least. Surely there are greater crimes. I find suits to be a crime. And punishment. For one thing they tend to make the young look old. In my defence, I chose this one myself. With Father’s guidance, of course.
A Mother Load of Owl Love
She arrived earlier than planned, but chose to wait outside until my apprentice let her in. I was facing the window when I saw her come through the door. That reflection on the plain, night-stained glass appeared nothing short of a miracle. I could not take my eyes off her pale, royal face. Salient in her devoted beauty, she was fit for hymns of gratitude. The moon covered the vision with an envious glow.
I turned around.
She tilted her head to one side.
“Call me Minerva.”
words by L. Haiman