Confused Owl Novels & Stories

“Whatever’s gone on between the witches and werewolves of New York is none of my fucking business. What’s important now is how to stop The Owl.” “Let’s say we believe you,” I said. “What the hell is The Owl?” “Not what,” she said. “Who.” “The Owl is a person?” I asked. “Yeah. A warlock. A very, very powerful warlock.” “And how do you know all this?” Nathan asked. “Because…” she said, looking away, “I got the vision of everything.” Her voice trembled, and I heard the fear in it. I didn’t want to buy into whatever she was saying, but deep down, I already believed her. She was telling the truth.

"What's that?" "What's what? Oh, the wolf?"

The two fell into silence, drinking juice while staring into space in thought. … It was evening by the time Kaizo left. He had stayed for several hours, catching up with his old friend. Once he was gone, Professor Dewsbury stayed in her office for a little longer. At 8pm, an owl appeared behind her window, tapping it gently with its wings to catch her attention. An owl in itself was uncommon, but this one was even more so. It had pieces of flesh missing on some parts of its body, and one of its wings was entirely made up of bones.

entering a great wood so early in the morning that there was barely enough light for him to see his road, he heard an owl screeching, like an owl in despair. "Hey-day!" he said, "here's an Owl in great affliction. It has been caught, perhaps, in some net." he searched on all sides, and at last discovered some large nets, which had been spread by fowlers during the night to catch small birds. "What a pity," he said, "that men are only made to torment each other, or to persecute poor animals which do them no wrong or mischief." he drew his knife and cut the cords.

Too slow to be a bird panicking against glass. I froze. My blood turned sharp. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was coming from the window. Tyler didn’t stir. I slipped from bed silently, pulling the curtain aside with careful fingers. An owl sat on the sill. It was huge and silent with eyes dark as obsidian, feathers mottled white and gray like moonlight on water. It didn’t move when it saw me. It simply stared. Between its tightly clutched talons was a cowrie. My heart stopped.

Lirien murmurs, eyes distant, “he did.” The word did sits heavy in my chest. Before anyone can say more— A shadow sweeps across the table. Wind rushes through the hall, sharp and sudden, extinguishing several candles at once. Plates rattle. Someone curses. Then something lands on the table between the fruit bowl and Ezra’s coffee. An owl. It’s massive. Bigger than it should be, feathers ink-black and silver, eyes glowing faintly gold. It stares at us, unblinking. Every muscle in my body locks.

This was more than a piece of jewelry; it was a relic, a key to a past deeply tied to Violet's enigmatic bloodline. The weight of discovery was momentarily forgotten when a sudden, piercing cry from outside shattered the cabin's fragile cocoon of silence. An owl, its large, round eyes gleaming with an almost unnatural luminance, perched momentarily on the windowsill, its cry echoing the urgency of a warning, a call to action. Just as quickly as it appeared, it took flight, its wings casting ghostly shadows upon the moonlit ground, leaving a chill in its wake.

He was also interested in killing people who had messed with his colleagues. "You often act without thinking things through, Stupid Owl!" Marcus's face showed shock. It had been a while since he'd heard it. The "Foolish Owl" nickname was inspired by Marcus's dual-colored hair—black and gray, which is often a distinctive feature of the owl's color.