Sea of Embers

Lightning Eyes

  Hello by Evanescence    

 "The deepest and purest of blues,

Calm yet piercing,

The only pair of eyes

That can see into my soul."

-A.M. REAM

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If you are here, reading this, then THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU ALREADY.

this story is very serious, very funny, and ultimately full of weird plot twists...lol. Now, disclaimer. I am not a professional so it may not be PERFECT.

Anywho.....Enjoy!

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Awake.

Again.

I sighed, dragging a hand through my tangled locks of dark chocolate hair, pulling it away from my face. The moonlight's pale rays shone through my somewhat dusty window as it taunted me, laughing silently as I struggled to sleep. Just like every other night. It had become a tradition, of sorts.

First, the same dream. That one dream that cost me so much sleep, so much peace. It happened irregularly, with no pattern, and frequently.

That same tall and intimidating solid rock wall that rose high into the sky. Spikes stood tall and evil on top of the wall, blocking any entrance... or escape. The all too familiar spike of fear in my gut as I seem to glide across the misty earth, fog swirling around my feet as if it contained trapped souls. Souls that reached out for me, trying to pull me away from the towering presence in front of me, but I continued unwillingly forward, pulling away from the grip of the souls that tried to keep me away from my demise.

That same enormous gate, made of thick steel bars. Cables wrapped around those steel cylinders, and barbed wire coiled in between and around the entire gate, an almost poetic way of saying 'stay the heck out.'

And, finally, those same haunting eyes. Orbs of blue that looked just like the sky after a raging thunderstorm. They were so intense, so full of barely, yet professionally concealed rage and pain. Those eyes spoke volumes with a simple glance, and even though they never change with every dream, they never cease to take my breath away, leaving me more confused than before.

Those lightning eyes were the only good thing about that terrible dream, even though they taunted and mocked me just as much as the moon did. That very same moon that now tried to blind me through the less than good shutters that did a poor job at concealing the room from anything outside.

I struggled to keep patient. It was very difficult, however, with the moon screaming at me with silent, yet poetic words. I did not understand him, nor did I appreciate the moon's mockery, but I did find a certain sense of comfort in his presence. He was always there, a constant, unlike everything else on this condemned Earth.

My thoughts seemed to spiral from one worry to the next, and occasionally stressing a couple till they are taught and ready to snap with the strain. Most nights I stressed the neverending thought of those Lightning eyes, although my mind never seemed to wear that thought out, nor did I tire of it.

After every dream I think of those eyes, although tonight it was different. All I could think was, 'it's too quiet.'
The normally frequent and very loud booms, screams of pain, and gunshots were lacking to present themselves this foggy night. It left my heart pounding even more than before. I slid my body so my feet were placed on the dusty, relatively old hardwood floor and stood. The large blue blanket I was earlier wrapped in slid off of my shoulders and fell down to the ground, pooling around my feet. I did not want to investigate, I truly didn't, because out here, in this world of raging wars, hiding was the best option. What else could I have done? It had been many long years since the sounds of combat had ceased. I find it genuinely hard to relax, or let my guard down. Remember the time I spent at the camps, the training that I had to endure. Even at the young, tender age of 16, men and women alike were drafted to help fight in the wars.

I never truly understood, even through five long years of heartbreak and the agony of battle, why the war had even started. All I knew, and, at the time, felt that I needed to know was whose side I was on. Even that seemingly simple decision revealed itself to be many times harder than I had originally planned. When the outbreak of war had first started, the government said it was just another rebel attack, that they did not agree with our independent way of life and thought our small country needed to bow to their king who ruled the rest of the planet. We believed them. When the enemy burned our homes, ransacked our towns, and demolished our cities, the government assured us that they had everything under control. We did not believe them, but had nowhere else to turn, so we tried to find refuge under their so called 'protection.'

It was not until the drafting had occurred, and the government had stole our supplies and our freedom, that people began to realize the truth. Help couldn't be found here. They discovered this a little late, I guess, for the so called "Rebels" captured most of what was left of our once independent, but now broken country.

The only thing that remained in this now post apocalyptic land, were the few survivors that roamed the barren cities...and that nightmare-ish gate from my dreams. It had been a prison, of sorts, that contained Unique's. I would know, I spent three years there myself.

I did not know what the government (what's left of it anyway) wanted to do with those precious souls, but I had my theories. The main thought I couldn't get to retreat from my mind was perhaps the government was capturing and training the Unique's to use their gifts to win this war. The other, more horrid theory I couldn't help but wonder was maybe the government wasn't trying to train the Unique's at all, and instead experimenting on them. That image alone was enough to wreak a trainwreck of nightmares for a month.

It was not long before I found myself gripping the windowsill, the crackling of old wood and white paint under my palms echoed through the room and flakes of paint fell to the floor. My knuckles would have paled if it weren't for my mocha skin, I released my grip, my fingers cramping. Using the back of my hand, I swiped at the dusty window, clearing a streaky path on the glass. It wasn't a clear sight through the glass, mostly because the sand particles inside it and dust, but it would do. I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cold window.

The silence became almost deafening as I searched. Nothing, no screams from miles away echoing over the mountainside outside. For the first time in five years there was silence. I didn't like that. I knew what to expect from war, but the quiet always meant a bigger storm...no, a hurricane was lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike at any moment. I shuddered, the only sound of comfort was the swaying of the pine trees in the breeze. Goosebumps prickled along my arms, traveling to my neck. I shivered again, and began to regret dropping my blanket.

It was then that I heard a soft rumble. I immediately felt warmth radiate through my body, blossoming in my chest and spreading, causing my toes to curl. A small smile graced my lips at the sound. His presence was inviting and warm, but I didn't move from my position at the window.

"It's quiet," I whispered, wishing for sleep, even my voice sounded tired. "Too quiet."

It was then that I felt his hand on my waist, his other arm wrapped around me, interlocking together in a warm embrace from behind. Placing a soft kiss to my temple, he spoke.

"Yes, it is." His voice deep, and husky from sleep.

Turning my head, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. "Where were you?"

He chuckled. "I went to the bathroom. You have enough to be concerned about, baby, you don't need to worry about me too. I'm okay." he laughed again, this time softer.

"I will always worry about you," I whispered turning around in his embrace so I was facing him, staring straight into his eyes.

Those lightning eyes