The Owl Service

by Alan Garner

“These rats should be up the Grammar at Aberystwyth.”

There was a hole in the rock. It was round and smooth, and it went right through from one side to the other.

Myth we learned about in class

“Well, when I picked up the top plate, I came over all queer. A sort of tingling in my hands, and everything went muzzy –

“It’ll be the Stone of Gronw, but I don’t know why. Ask Huw. He’s worked at the house all his life.”

“It’s not abstract,” said Alison. “That’s the body. If you take the design off the plate and fit it together it makes a complete owl. See. I’ve traced the two parts of the design, and all you do is turn the head right round till it’s the other way up, and then join it to the top of the main pattern where it follows the rim of the plate. There you are. It’s an owl – head, wings and all.”

She sees it while the others don't

“I saw it as soon as I’d washed the plate,” said Alison. “It was obvious.” “It was?” said Roger. “I’d never have thought of it. I like him.” “Her,” said Alison.

“You been back to Aber for them?”

Aber!

“You keep away from that old fool, you hear me? I’m telling you, boy!”

Why don't they like or trust him

“I’ll thank you not to waste my time, Miss Alison. Please to give me that plate.”

Why does she want the plate so bad?

“But Gwyn says you gave Nancy an ordinary white one.” “The pattern disappeared.”

Only shows up for her?

sheep-dip mayonnaise.”

What is this?

“But it’s my house, isn’t it?” said Alison.

Huh?

If your father hadn’t turned it over to you before he died your mother would’ve had to sell this house to clear the death duties. Morbid, but there it is.”

“And I don’t have to take orders from my cook.”

Snap!

“What does she have against him?” said Alison.

Gwyn heard something drop behind him, and he turned. A lump of pebble-dash had come off the wall, and another fell, and in their place on the wall two eyes were watching him.

“Is it to be the three of them again, Mrs Lewis-Jones?” “Yes. There’s the girl, too. Mister Huw says she’s made it owls.” “We must bear it,” said Mrs Richards. “There’s no escaping, is there? Aberystwyth isn’t far enough.”

It was the book. It came for him through the air. Its pages rattled, and disintegrated, but still came for him, like a tail after the red binding.

“She’s put them somewhere,” said Gwyn. “She’s hidden them.” “But is that a likely place?” said Roger. “I’ve tried the likely places,” said Gwyn. “All of them: roof to cellar – greenhouses, stables, the lot. So that leaves the unlikely places, doesn’t it?”

They are working together

“A woman made of flowers and then changed into an owl. The plates, man! It’s all there if we could see it!”

Alison was huddled over her torch, which she had propped against a stack of plates, and was cutting owls out of a roll of tracing paper.

“Oh, their name is on the books of the law, but I own the ground, the mountain, the valley: I own the song of the cuckoo, the brambles, the berries: the dark cave is mine!”

Suppose he found a way to control some power, or force, and used it to make a woman out of flowers. And suppose it went wrong – got out of hand – I don’t know. It got out of hand because it wasn’t neutral any more. There was a brain behind it.

He wanted to crush the box,

Jealous of her talking to her stepdad?

Roger! Roger, make him stop. Make him! Make him! Make him!”

why you got to call to your step bro

“It will be Gwyn,” said Alison. “I know he does – take things.”

Why you blaming him? He doesnt, why you gotta treat him like shit

“You must understand this overtime lark is entirely your own affair. If you think you can twist my arm with it for more wages you’ve come to the wrong shop.”

Why is everyone a dick

“Because we gave this power a thinking mind. We must bear that mind, leash it, yet set it free, through us, in us, so that no one else may suffer.”

You are the lord in blood to this valley after me. There is not one doubt of it. I am your father. You did not know?”

“I’m staying. Mam! I’m staying!” Nancy receded from him, leaving him at the gate.

Mother of the year award

“It is mean people who must wait for birthdays,”