Her Eyes Were Green

Prologue.

Let me paint you a picture. Nineteen-twenty-five. A young man, Passing out newspapers on the dark corner of Maxwrith Avenue, Utah. He appears to be seventeen or so. He is dressed nicely and likely from a rich family, he has dark gold curls and his hair is short. Freckles peppered his face, a condescending smirk drawn across it.

"Hear about the town's darkest secret! Not everything is as it seems!" The boy shouted aloud, handing people newspapers as they walked by. The town itself was rather nice, it was a relatively rich town. Not many people suffered from poverty and there was plenty of food to go around. He has lived here his entire life. His father is part of the local newspaper, so he takes up the job to hand out the newspapers every now and then. Most people tend to ignore him as he tries to talk to them, others will politely decline, but a good amount of people do take the newspaper.

"Hear about the curses Inflicted by a-" The young mans' voice was cut off. "Excuse me, Sir." A Lady, around the boy's age, asked. Upon the girl interrupting him, the rest of the townsfolk took this as an opportunity to get away from the newspaper kid. The young man, startled by the interruption, turned to face the lady who had addressed him. She was of similar age, her expression curious yet guarded. Her attire suggested she belonged to a well-to-do family, much like his own. "Yes, ma'am?" he replied, somewhat taken aback by her directness. "Your newspapers," she began hesitantly, eyeing the headlines with a mix of curiosity and concern, "They seem rather... sensational today." The boy's smirk softened into a rueful smile. "Sensational sells, they say. Keeps things interesting around here." She frowned slightly, her gaze flicking between him and the newspaper clutched in her hands. "But are these stories true? About curses and secrets?" He hesitated, considering his words carefully. "Some say they are. Others call it local folklore. Hard to tell sometimes, isn't it?" Before she could respond, a man in a tailored suit approached, clearly her escort or companion. He eyed the young newspaper distributor with mild disdain. "Come along, Margaret. We've no time for these frivolous tales." Margaret hesitated, torn between her curiosity and propriety. With a regretful glance back at the boy, she allowed herself to be led away, leaving him standing there, the newspapers in his hands suddenly feeling heavier than before. As the crowd dispersed, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was onto something, something more than just headlines and sales pitches. The town's secrets, buried beneath its polished facade, seemed to whisper to him, urging him to dig deeper.