IP: 2.30.174.120
Posted on April 25, 2014 at 03:15:23 AM by amber
“Don’t turn around.” Amber froze. Graeling was out, so she couldn’t simply assume that he was pulling some kind of prank – and it would be totally out of character for him if he was. Amber was reasonably sure Graeling had never even heard of the word prank. In any case, the voice was distinctly female – old and rasping, like it had swallowed a piece of sandpaper. She had been bent over her bed of pansies in the front garden, pulling up dandelions (about the only bit of gardening she ever did); now she straightened up, slowly. Something about that voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Who would be talking to her like that, randomly telling her not to turn around when she was minding her own business, tending to her flowers? She couldn’t even think of any old women in the village. Was it one of the boys joking around? The funny thing about being told not to do something was that it just made Amber want to do the complete opposite. She started to shift and turn her head, when the voice was heard again: “don’t look.” A twig cracked, and something scrabbled along the ground behind her. There was something there. Something real, and it didn’t sound like a person. Amber’s heart pounded in her throat and her soil-filled nails dug into her sweaty palms, although she didn’t feel the pain. Could it be rats? Amber didn’t mind rats – there had been plenty in Sebauza Ruins, where she had lived before here – but… usually those rats didn’t talk. And when they did, they squeaked – they didn’t make dire warnings in croaky old fairy voices. Something brushed against her shoulder. Amber couldn’t take it anymore. She spun around, and almost instantly had to lift her hands against the blinding white glare which came from nowhere. She gasped and staggered backwards, flattening the pansies, and kept the heels of her palms pressed against her eyes for a few seconds. Nothing else happened, so she lifted one hand away to peek out, and saw… nothing. Blackness. Panic seized hold of the young woman, and she dropped the other hand to reveal the garden and front of her house stretched out as normal before her. Or, almost as normal – the left hand side was cut off. Amber blinked rapidly a few times, realising that she couldn’t see at all out of her left eye – which was smarting painfully. The whole experience, which had lasted probably less than a minute, rated a perfect 10 on Amber’s freak-out-o-meter. An eerie silence had fallen over the grove; all she could hear now was the pounding of her own heart. What the hell had just happened? Had the light damaged her vision temporarily? The eye which could see was slightly out of focus, and both hurt, though the left one more. Amber turned around, feeling sick and disoriented, and stumbled out of her garden. Shock had set in. All she could think was that she needed to find someone – find help. Morgana was the obvious choice. Amber started down the path towards the mayor’s house, but changed her mind after only a few steps and veered off towards a nearer building instead. Torram and Birch were closer. She’d only met the mysterious pair once, but Birch had seemed like a warrior (warriors knew wounds) and had a comforting aged sort of wisdom about her which made her seem like a good person to turn to. Keeping one hand pressed against the dysfunctional eye, Amber made it up their front path (just – she walked into the gate post and nearly tripped on a cracked paving stone along the way), leant her shoulder against the wall and banged on the door. Now that a few minutes had passed and the shock was wearing away, distress was starting to take hold. Her hands shook as she rapped against the wooden door, listening to the hollow sound echo throughout the house. * * * |
Replies:
- you only need the light when it's burning low - By Birch & Torram April 26, 2014 at 01:42:12 AM
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