Joan of Snark Ch. 14

Joan opened her curved black beak and inhaled a deep breath. Flapping her wings, she took off from her perch and sailed out into the open above the pasture. She circled the clearing a few times, trying to build up speed, but also her nerve. As she sailed above the woolly herd munching on grass, she looked over and spotted her mark - the man in the shadows.

As she dove back down across the clearing, she opened her beak wide and let out a deep raspy squawk - a war cry of sorts. She aimed for the man at the edge of the woods and flew as fast as she could. She angled the point of her beak at his neck.

She could not believe what she was doing. She was actually going to attempt to kill a man. This unknown man standing in the shadows. Her heart beat wildly as the wind whipped over her ebony feathers. She got closer. But his face and other features did not become any clearer. Joan just tried to remain focused on his throat. She figured that was probably his most vulnerable area. And was most likely the best place for her to attack. She was flying faster than she ever realized possible. She tried to brace herself for the impact. She attempted to prepare herself for carnage and bloodshed. She went in for the kill.

Joan felt the hair of her brown bob blowing around her face. It tickled the skin on the back of her neck. She could sense the cloth of her nightgown brush against her legs as it flapped in the breeze. The hairs on her forearms stood up as the night air passed over her. Joan opened her eyes.

She found herself standing outside on a sidewalk. As she glanced around, she quickly surmised that she was not in her own neighborhood. As she looked up, she immediately recognized the building in front of her. She was standing at the foot of the steps leading up to the rectory.

How did she get there? She must have sleep walked, she figured. But Joan had never done that before in her life. And of all the places to sleep walk to, why would she go to the rectory?

Joan felt something cold against her chest. It was the pentacle. With her hands shaking, Joan reached around and behind to the nape of her neck. With trembling fingers, she attempted to unfasten the clasp of the necklace. It took her three tries, but she eventually took off the pendant. She looked down at the five pointed star and pondered its meaning for a few moments.

Joan began to get a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She carefully and quietly crept up the stairs of the front porch. She tentatively placed the necklace on the railing of the veranda. Then, holding her breath, she sneaked back down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Taking one last look at the rectory, she turned and started to quickly make her way down the silent street.

Joan could not be certain. But she could have sworn that somewhere behind her, she heard the ominous sound of a door squeaking on its hinges as it was being swung open. She dared not look back. She had no desire to check and see exactly which door was being opened. With her bare feet pounding against the hard ground, she broke into a panicked sprint. As fast as she could, Joan dashed away from the rectory.