Fiction & Creative

Without Her Face

By Nora Chery

Volume 1 Issue 7

April 22, 2021

Without Her Face

Image provided by Getty Images

Chapter one


In the town of Snow Valley Square the chilly streets were warm because of the love that flew all around. It was Valentine’s Day, a fortunate time for couples to embody the ceaseless love they’ve shared with each other. The small town bustled with conversations that were laced with sweet words of couples. They were chattering about what they’re going to do, giggling about where they’re going to go, and signing about the memories they’ve shared. This was especially clear to see on E. Rosemary St., no one seemed to be alone, everyone was budding shoulders and crossing arms with someone. No one seemed to be alone except for Mr. Owl, who only had his golden watch and a thin duffle coat to keep him company. On the edge of the dark gray sidewalk, he perched down on a bench and peered at his watch.


It was 6 pm on a Saturday afternoon, but Belle Maya Owl, his wife of six months and partner of four years, was late once again. She had said with her soft cheery voice: “Let’s meet… around twelve! Ok, darling? I-l won’t be tardy this time." She said that six hours ago. Mr. Owl’s thick eyebrows pulled together with mild annoyance, though the annoyance grew. Every sweet word the couples exchanged around him with each other flew by him like a gust of wind.


“Where is she…?” he muttered. “Geez... how long does that woman expect me to wait here?” Mr. Owl was a patient man, but even a patient man has his limits.


Two pairs of shoes scratch against the pavement in a hold, “Why hey there Owl!” called out a man. Mr. Owl turned to meet the playfully mocking smirks of Mr. and Mrs. Blue, who stood next to each other, their hands intertwined. “Whatcha doin’ over there? Waitin’ for that wife of yours?” Mr. Blue asked.


Mrs. Blue leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder, looking at him at, “She’s probably still putting on makeup. You know how women are with their makeup — we view it as an art form — because it is” she jested lightly, her head adding more weight onto the shoulder. “That Belle though... she takes it more seriously than other women I’ve met. She spends so much time on it—yet the result ends up being...” she glances at Mr. Owl, “above average. Isn’t that right, darling?” She shifted her glance to Mr. Blue.


“I’m still surprised Owl made it this far in a relationship, and he’s a dedicated one — fella waited ten hours for wife” Mr. Blue scoffed, smiling. “But hey, Belle’s a nice woman, so I can’t blame him-” The smaller hand surrounding his own had tightened.


Mrs. Owl had narrowed her green eyes while her mouth formed a pout, “She’s not nicer than me, is she? I hope you mean nice in personality, Mike. “


“Geez, Sophia, calm down, will ya?”


“Although, she’s also above average in terms of that too.”


Mr. Owl’s face clenched his jaw with a tint a flush, “Now, the both you, shush up.” He sprang from his seat to glare at the couple. “Can’t a gentleman, wait for his wife in peace? Peace, as in a couple goin’ along their lovey way and not stopping on their tracks to sneer at me!? And no, Mike, I have not been waiting for ten hours, I’ve been waiting for…” Owl paused, then turned away from the couple, scowling down at the ground. “Never mind” he hissed as Mr. and Mrs. Blue blinked at him; Mrs. Blue turned to Mr. Blue.


“Suddenly, I’m beginning to doubt she’s coming.”


“Don’t say such things, Sophia.”


“What? I’m only saying what I think--”


A delicate hand gently rested on Owl's shoulder. The touch surprised him enough that all the red-hot emotion he contained popped right out of him.


A slivery sweet voice that had belonged to the lovely hand replied. “There you are, sweetheart, I’m sorry—I’m late, aren’t I?” With every word the voice grew sympathetic. “You’ve must’ve been waiting all day for me.”


Mr. Owl slowly turned to meet the alluring dark eyes of Belle, Mrs. Owl, and her pastel pink colored lips perked into a soft smile. “I’m sorry I don’t mean to… Oh! I know just the place that’ll be perfect for us.”


Belle pushed a piece of her long flowing black hair behind her ears. She looked at Mrs. Blue and shared the smile she gave to Owl. “Well, how are you, Sophia? Enjoying his holiday?”


Mrs. Blue’s eyebrows snapped together. She turned her gaze away from her. “Fine,” she replied.


Sophia turned her gaze to Mr. Blue, but her smile had fainted, Mike stared at her. There was a pause for a moment, until Sophia gave a polite smile, “You too—Mike?”


Mr. Blue blinked, as if she snapped him out of a trance. “Uh yeah, of course” he replied, feeling the burning eyes of his wife.


“Wonderful. Now, come along, honey, there’s a load of hours I’ve got to make up” she said to Mr. Owl.