Blind Soul (On Hold)

Chapter Two

Zack hated school. He hated the work. He hated the teachers. He hated how the rooms smelled like dead rats and mold. Most of all, he hated his classmates.

Zack never talked. He felt it would draw too much attention or cause too much trouble. He was not good at socializing. But still, he received a generous amount of attention despite all this. Nobody really knew him, so most people made up stuff about him, like he's mentally disabled or he was a former prostitute. But Zack still kept silent, only speaking when necessary.

"You know you're mental, right?" Ry said one day, the person Zack hated most. He ignored him, but was aware of the anger gnawing from his stomach and up into his throat.

"You're dumb and you don't even know it. You don't even know how to talk. I bet your mother dropped you and you hit your head when you were a baby." Ry went on. He glanced over at Zack to see his reaction. His face gave away nothing. He gave a blank look.

Ry pinched him. Nothing. He punched him. Too far. This time, Zack reacted. He pushed him up against a wall. But before he could even to anything, Ry fell to the ground. His hands flew to his face, searching. He looked up at Zack, mouth hung open.

"Oh, dear God." Zack half-sobbed. That was all he could say before he ran.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

June 13th, 1943

It's raining. I sit on the winding staircase and talk to the maids as they work. They are the people I trust most, more than my own parents or sister. They are polishing glass from the cabinets, of which they say, have rainbows in them when you hold them to the light. I wish to see that.

"Dorit, come here." I followed my mother's voice into the kitchen. It was firm yet sweet and loving, like it always was.

"I have your proof."

"Of what?"

"Of what can make you see." I listened. She pulled a jar out of the cabinet and unscrewed it's lid. Simultaneously I started to see. But it was only that creature again. That scary, ugly creature again.

I suppressed a scream. It's eyes were sunken and blood red, and it had three or four black and gray hairs coming out of it's head of rotting green flesh. It was disgusting.

"Put it back." I said, my voice shaking a little,"Put it back!"

"Do you see it?" Mother asked.

"Put it back!" It was reaching out for me, touching my hand. It was stick-like and cold.

"It's touching me!" I screamed. Then it was gone.

"Did you see it!" My mother's voice had an edge to it.

"I saw death." I said.