[Scene: A cozy living room in Oregon. Rain patters outside. Sam is curled up on the couch with a mug of tea. Jordan walks in holding a bag of groceries.]
Jordan:
You won’t believe the line at Trader Joe’s. Someone tried to pay with a jar of buttons. I’m not even joking.
Sam:
Well, that is weird… but not as weird as what happened earlier.
Jordan (suspicious):
Oh boy. What now? Did your cat walk backward through your mirror?
Sam (serious):
No! But I heard a dog bark three times, an owl hoot twice, and right after, the shutters on the porch slammed shut.
Jordan:
Okay. And…?
Sam (whispering):
That’s the trifecta, Jordan. An omen. Someone’s going to die.
Jordan (groans and sets down groceries):
Sam. We live in Oregon. Dogs bark, owls hoot, and shutters slam every time the wind hiccups.
Sam:
I’m serious. My grandma back in Mississippi always said those three together meant the veil was thinning. Someone’s passing over. And yesterday, my phone glitched while I was texting, and Siri said “I didn’t catch that. Could you repeat the prophecy?” PROPHECY!
Jordan (laughing):
Okay, that’s hilarious. But that’s not an omen—that’s a bug. Siri’s been weird since the last iOS update. Mine told me to “look within” when I asked about nearby taco trucks.
Sam (frowning):
You always joke, but I really believe in these signs. I’ve seen them happen. Before my Uncle Ray passed, an owl hooted outside our window for three nights. We thought it was just a bird… and then—bam—heart attack.
Jordan (sits down, sympathetic):
I’m not dismissing your feelings, Sam. I just think our brains are wired to look for patterns, especially around emotional stuff like death. Remember when I dropped that glass right before my job interview and you said it was bad luck? I still got the job.
Sam:
Because I lit a white candle and saged your resume. You’re welcome.
Jordan:
That resume had six typos.
Sam (defensive):
Okay, but that sage was potent. I got it from a woman who only harvests on full moons.
Jordan (grinning):
Let me ask you this—if hearing an owl means death, what about zookeepers? They must be walking through a Shakespearean tragedy every week.
Sam (laughs despite themself):
Zookeepers are probably spiritually shielded. Like, professionally.
Jordan:
I mean, look—I get that traditions have meaning. Your grandma’s beliefs came from a culture where people made sense of the unknown however they could. That’s powerful. But in 2025, we have weather apps and carbon monoxide detectors and…
Sam:
… and yet, people still vanish mysteriously. You can’t science everything.
Jordan:
True. But we can investigate. Like, shutters slamming—remember last winter? I swore our house was haunted. Turned out the latch was loose and the wind hit just right.
Sam:
But what about the feeling, Jordan? The prickles on your neck, the chill that isn’t cold. Science can’t explain intuition.
Jordan:
Maybe not entirely. But it can explain why we associate fear with nighttime sounds. Our ancestors survived by being jumpy in the dark. That “feeling” might just be your amygdala on overdrive.
Sam (softening):
So you’re saying it’s my brain spooking itself?
Jordan:
Exactly. A superpower gone rogue. Like Spider-Man’s spidey sense during allergy season.
Sam (laughs):
Alright, that’s funny. But if you hear a crow tapping on the window tonight, I will be sleeping in your room.
Jordan:
Fine. But only if you bring that sage lady’s contact. I’ve got a neighbor who plays bagpipes at 3 a.m.—might be time to exorcise that spirit.
[They both laugh. The rain continues outside. A distant hoot echoes. They freeze. Then Jordan throws a pillow at Sam.]
Jordan:
Don’t even start.
Sam:
Too late. The owl has spoken.
Science Vs Superstition 
Tell Us What You Think