Work Text:
1 o'clock.
Only a single sound from the clock rang inside the manor. The bellow lasted no less than 5 seconds, bouncing off the walls of the long, empty hallways, and yet it didn't disturb the residents' deep slumber.
A peculiar bunch, one could say: a lovely family of two... hundred plump, orange ghosts hovered about, donning little sleeping caps as they snoozed midair. Some had found a cozy corner in the kitchen, some laid comfortably on the sofas of the dead room... Why, if you looked up, you'd also find a couple of ghosts nesting on some chandeliers.
And yet, none of them were to be found in the bedroom, where only one being could be found fast asleep: the owlish owner of this place, completely conked out after another day/night of party.
Not unlike a bat, their wings were completely tuckered in their upsidedown form, as they hooted soundly in their sleep.
The only noise that could be heard inside the manor, clear and yet somehow incredibly gentle, so not to wake the little bundle that he had lovingly tucked in her bed, not too far from his sleeping form.
Just that morning, earlier, she had insisted she could sleep on her own now: at the age of 4 she was a "big girl" now, she could handle sleeping alone.
So self reliant at such a young age: truly, a feather of her old papa, who felt his dead heart grow warm still, and he did comply with her request... by positioning a lovely wooden bed in his own room.
So he could make sure...
...
...no.
No no no.
No use for those grime remainders. That was in the past, now. She was back in his "life", she was happy to see him, he could stroke her feathers and hear her laughter again. He could be the father he wasn't back then, and always be there for her.
He was granted a new chance. And he won't squander it. Not again.
And so it went. Both were sleeping, together yet in their own space, as their minds were filled with oniric scenarios.
In his mind, stars and clouds, raining golden candy bars, names and faces he'd long forgotten and now moved on from... Another typical night for the ghostly host.
In hers...
…………….
A flowery meadow she was running in. The sun was setting, the daisies waved in the breeze as if they were greeting her, ready to be plucked and arranged in a lovely bouquet. And indeed, the small owlet had managed to pick a good number of those pretty flowers, holding them all together in her wings. Sure, some of those daisies were losing a few petals, and the finished 'bouquet' overall looked more droopy than anything, but she was satisfied with the result; after all, she gathered them all all on her own! Her papa was going to be so proud of her! And he would've loved her flowers, and he'd keep them near his books, like he'd always do!
Right on cue, her beloved papa, in the distance, called out her name.
"Emmy, dear! Dinner is ready!"
"I'm coming!" she replied with a smile. And so, gingerly tuckering her bouquet in her scarf, she waddled as fast as possible towards his voice. Still lots of grass and flowers in her way, but she kept her stride with determination. Only a couple of minutes later, the voice called out to her again.
It felt... different. More... frantic?
"Emmy, are you coming?"
"I'm here, Papa! I'm coming!" The little owlet kept running, and started panting: she didn't remember getting herself so far from home. A small unease started creeping up in her chest: something wasn't right. The grass looked dried up, and there was no flower in sight.
"Emmy! Sweetheart, whERE are yOU?!" It was that voice again... was it not? It was her father's, and yet it sounded... panicked... And... off... as if it was split apart...? Could a voice even do that? The owlet had to ask her father later... at least, she hoped she could do that, if only she could reach him.
"Papa, wait! I'm here, I'm here!" The little one cried out, as she ran as fast as possible in the barren wasteland that was once the floral moore she was playing in not even...
How long was it, again? The little one still hadn't learned how to tell time, that was another thing she had to ask her father.
After what felt like forever, her house was finally in sight, just as she remembered: so big, and tall, and run down, and falling apart...
Wait... whose house was that? The owlet started backing out: silly head she was, she got lost again...
No, wait... a figure was near the door. It was facing up in the opposite direction, she could only see the purple vest.
No no, no mistake! That was her father!
The owlet leapt with joy and ran to hug him. She found her way all on her own: why, she bet he was proud of her!
"Papa! Did you see? Did you see? I found you, all on my own!" She laughed with pride, while her father stayed silent, still not showing his face.
Yet the owlet didn't notice that, for how overjoyed she was. "Oh, and look! I got you some flowers- oh...". She tried looking for them inside her scarf, but couldn't find anything but a few loose petals.
"They fell down...". The poor little one felt her eyes growing heavy with tears: she took so many daisies earlier, just for him... "Can I go back and pick them up again...? Please, papa?"
Her father still said nothing, without even budging from his place. Stiffer than the dead.
The owlet started growing apprehensive: there have been times her father would be unable to respond to her, always looking at some funny papers. Sometimes he wouldn't be able to even tell she went in the garden while he was working, but would still eventually turn around and smile at her.
Why wouldn't he do it now...? Unless...?
"Papa? Are you... angry...? I'm sorry..." the owlet mumbled timidly, fearing she would get scolded for taking so much time.
"Emmy... Why wouldn't you come back...?" Her father finally responded, still not looking at her, his voice devoid of any emotion.
The little one bowed her head in shame. "I was... looking for flowers..."
"Couldn't you hear my voice? I've been looking for you, EverYWheRe ...". Her father started shifting, as his voice grew more trembling, like it did before. The owlet still couldn't see his face, despite the shift in position, and yet that earlier fear crept up once again.
"Yes, I hearded you, Papa! I ran for you!" she insisted. She did what she was told, she was a good girl!
"AnD YET! YouR PapA haD Been WaitING FoR a CENTURY for hIS DARLING DeARIe to coME HoME! ThAT'S not VeRY NICE ...!" now the bigger owl had started moving his head towards the owlet. Only now she could see his face: orange, swirly eyes poking from the black abyss that was now his face were looking at her instead of that gentle, golden glance.
The owlet started hyperventilating, and backed away as she covered herself in her wings: that was NOT her father, where was he?!
"WHERE'S PAPA!? I WANT MY PAPA!!"
The dark being chuckled a creepy, hooting laughter, as he slowly inched towards her with open wings, somehow looking even bigger.
"Hoo-hoo-hoo! BuT He'S RIGHT HERE, SwEEtIE!" he smiled maniacally. "AnD nOW WE'll AlL Be TOGethER..."
The little one started screaming and completely covered her eyes before she could feel the world around her going black.
"FOREVER!!!"
-----------------
Emmy's resulting scream of terror wasn't enough to help herself break away from the nightmare she found herself in, yet the same couldn't be said for the serene stillness of the night...
...nor Barnaby's own slumber.
"HOOT???" he jolted awake with a flail of his own wings, so shocked he lost his balance and found himself back on the floor, face first. With a huff, he forced himself on his feet, trying to get his now floor stucked face upwards, but it wouldn't cooperate. So he applied much more force, pulling with all his neck.
And pulled he did, as finally his face got unstuck as it flayed upwards along his neck. When it came down, it looked no less flatter than a pancake on the bouncing spring that was now his nape.
Whew, he's going to feel THAT in the morning...
But that was for later! His sweet owlet was screaming her little heart off, he had to do something about it! So he quickly shook his head with a rattling sound to regain his senses, and got closer to Emmy's bed.
"Emmy! Emmy, sweetie pie! Hoo-hoowhat's wrong?!" he trembly asked as he tried to scoop the little one in his wings.
Which proved to be difficult, as Emmy kept flailing her limbs everywhere and tried to avoid getting picked up by anyone.
"NOOO! GET AWAY!! I WANT MY PAPA!!!" She was still trapped in her dream, those eyes taunting her mind.
Barnaby started getting agitated, familiar himself with nightmares, yet still tried to reach out to her. Some Barnaboos even came close to help him out with her, and he managed to have her shaking frame into his wings.
"Shhhh. It's alright, my dear. Everything will be okay, papa is here... Papa is here..." he cooed as he started rocking her using as much care as he could.
Barnaby's words seemed to finally reach out to Emmy, as her eyes jolted awake: she frantically looked at her surroundings, with panicked breaths. He could hear her small heart beating uncomfortably fast.
"*gasp* *gasp* ...Papa?" Emmy looked at her father with eyes full of fear: such a sight tugged his long dead heart, and he started nuzzling her fluffy head, hoping to ease her fears.
"Yes, my pumpkin. I'm here... I'm here..." he sweetly cooed.
Emmy snuggled her beak against his nape, still shaking with fear.
"Papa! You're okay! The monster didn't get you!"
A monster?? Oh, of course: his little one had a nightmare. Barnaby shook his head in endearment.
"Hoo-hoo, Emmy, my silly head. There are no monsters here."
"Yes, there is!" She insisted, with eyes filled with tears, Barnaby fatherly nodding at her affirmation, going along with her fantasies. "He was big, and black, and had biiiiiiiig wings like this!" She made a motion with her own tiny wings to show her father just how big they were. "And-and he had big orange eyes!"
....oh.
Realization hit Barnaby's chest just like one of his knives.
"Hoo... I see..."
(art by @studio-petrichor)
"And-and he tried to get me! And I couldn't find you anywhere! The-the monster! He got you too!"
Barnaby shivered in horror, as faint memories flashed in his mind: those sleepless nights, feeling his sanity slipping away, hoping until his last breath he could finally find his daughter once again...
After he foolishly took her for granted, too caught up in his work to be the father she deserved...
Unbeknownst to Emmy, the monster had claimed him a long time ago.
But perhaps... he wasn't too late.
"Oh, dear, sweet Emmy." he cooed, and started preening her head with loving care. "It's all over, now. The monster is gone. Your papa is fine, see?" And he stuck his tongue out crossing his eyes, making that goofy face she always loved to see.
It made her laugh faintly, just as he hoped.
She looked at him, her eyes still wet with tears, but at least she was smiling again.
"Yes!" Emmy hugged her father, relieved. "You're fine, Papa!
"Hoo-hoo! Of course I am!" he chuckled. "We're together once again, and everything will be okay!"
Emmy had no idea how much Barnaby meant those words, and she nuzzled her head on his chest, now completely calm. The ghost still rocked her gently, to fully ease her worries.
He looked at her, filled with warmth and love towards his small, but sweet darling. He really couldn't believe, after all those lonely years, he could finally hold her in his wings once again.
That thought threatened to make him spill the tears that were slowly building up in his eyes.
...
"...Papa?" That poignant silence had lasted no more than mere minutes before it got broken by Emmy's small voice.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Are you... angry?" Her voice betrayed the hint of worry in her heart.
"Hoo-hoo, why would I be angry, sweet pea?" his voice came out with a little chuckle.
She stayed silent for a couple of seconds, afraid to reveal it.
"I... I just wanted to give you some pretty flowers... and I couldn't find the house anymore..."
Barnaby hummed thoughtfully. She must have been referring to her nightmare... right?
"Hoo, Emmy, sweetie. I'm not angry. I am... happy."
"Really?" Emmy looked at her father, apprehensive. "But... I was far, far away!"
"You were." Barnaby nodded, and he started nuzzling his cheek against hers. "And your Papa got very, very sad and lonely".
"Oh no!" Emmy exclaimed with childlike horror.
"Hoo yes." Barnaby affirmed, lovingly, trying to mask the actual sadness he was starting to feel as he recalled those lonesome days. He then carefully moved his forehead against her own, once again nuzzling with love, so she couldn't see his tears.
"But you're back, and you're okay. And your Papa is so... so very happy for it. Why, I couldn't be happier, my sweet Emmy."
"Really?" she timidly asked.
"Really really..." he sweetly replied, and she giggled at that, and she once again gingerly laid her head on his chest.
They stayed like this for a while. Barnaby had started crooning along, as he resumed with rocking her to help her fall asleep once again.
...
"...Papa?" Emmy's voice rang once again, this time filled with fatigue.
"Yes, Emmy?" he replied gently.
"Can we... get more flowers... tomorrow?"
Barnaby hooted a soft giggle. "Hoo-hoo, of course, my dear. All the flowers you want. And we'll have a biiiiiig flower party! It will be wonderful!"
"...can Billie... come too?"
Barnaby grinned. He would have had to deal with that funny axolotl's apprehension for it, but this and anything for his owlet. And he knew the young goat, now his dear friend, would have accepted right away.
Why, sometimes he could swear Billie had come to see Emmy as their little sister, as he often saw his owlet tagging along in Billie's shenanigans, and the goat making sure she'd always follow behind. They both would often come back with light bruises and dirt on their bodies, but big smiles on their faces.
As if they've always been... siblings. A family. Such a thought made the once lonely ghost owl beam fondly.
"Of course. Billie would love to play with you."
"...yay... Thank you, Papa.... I love... you..." and she fell asleep, lovingly tucked in his wings.
And with that, Barnaby swore his heart came alive once again for how much love he felt for his owlet.
This time he let his tears fall on his face, unable to hold them in, anymore. He gently cradled Emmy in a hug, and between sobs, a sweet lullaby resonated from his chest. The hauntingly beautiful melody filled the once silent manor with notes of love and joy, and the wandering ghosts around couldn't help but sing along.
Truly... a kind of magical feeling not even his own could match. And he'd hold on to it... and especially her... until the end of days.
"I love you too, my special, little star..."