𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

4 0 0
                                    

    A woman began to make herself visible. Her movements were gentle but quick and it did not take long before she was only a few feet away from me. I could now see her more clearly. Her jet black, slightly curly hair lied perfectly around her face. The black pieces of fabric, which could hardly be counted as clothes, suited her perfectly. She was probably just over 17 years old.        But this woman was not human, not entirely at least. A pair of horns protruded from the head and the skin was a light shade of purple. 

    But it was her eyes that gave her away. The iris shone like freshly cut amethysts and the sclera was as black, if not blacker, than the hair. But the eyes she gave me were kind and showed no sign of danger. I could not help but look into them before she spoke.  "Aren't you going to stand up soon?" she said softly and it was not until now that I noticed that I was still sitting in the grass. Slightly embarrassed, I stood up. "Hello," she said, as softly as before. "H-hello" I said back still embarrassed. "Millie". "H-huh?" I asked a little confused. "My name is Millie" she replied with an amused smile on her rosy lips.

    "Ehh- okay, my name is, ehh..." I could not utter another word for the life of me. But she must have understood because she said shortly after:                                                                                                          "It's okay, I call you Robin!" It was said so swiftly and enthusiastically that you can believe someone pressed "fast forward".  "Em, okay. But why?" I asked wondering. How can you come up with a nickname so quickly. Especially one like Robin? "You have a red head, you know, like the bird!" she said contentedly. I now understood how she made that connection. My hair was a shade of reddish brown and my face had probably turned a little red because of before. She looked at me for a while. The inspecting gaze went up and down on me. After a while she looked a little confused and asked:                                                                                                                                                                    "Where did you get those clothes from?" I looked down at what I was wearing. The black jeans and my big blue hoodie did not look to fit into the new environment as well as at home. "From home?" I said, but it probably sounded more like a question than a statement. "Mhm" she agreed, but did not sound completely convinced. Her gaze was now a little harder. But in the end, she eased the facial expression and replaced it with the previous, soft smile.

    She grabbed my arm and began to lead me out the directions she was going. A determined look ahead and a happy smile were placed over her face.

    "Where are we going?!" I asked as she continued to drag me by the sleeve.                                          "To my friends! But first we will get you some better clothes!"

.

.

.

.

.

    "Okay, Millie"

Through The MirrorWhere stories live. Discover now