Blind Eye.

prologue - the same forest.

July 1967 . . .

Footsteps echoed through the thousand shades of green. Looming giants, with deep brown bark, and scaly patches. As two delicate ivory hands ran over each crack and crevice, taking in the history. They pulled away suddenly, and the girl's eyes combed over the canopy of the forest. The smell of pine trees mixed with the distinct aroma of petrichor earth. Rustling sounds of small animals scurrying under the thick ferns and over the thousands of brittle branches and twigs. The constant sound of a breeze, gently swaying in its caress. Birds twittering and flying from tree to tree, perhaps confessing love poems, or wrathful dissension.

Her bare feet assumed the path again, hitting the moss eaten stone with a thud. Sunlight made polka-dots on the ground, lighting up dead tree trunks where shelf fungus grows like dinner plates for the creatures inhabiting its sanctuary. Grunts and chants were audible in the brush where she had been mere seconds ago. The girl's eyes widened in surprise as the half-figure was revealed, only showing a masculine position and walnut skin.

The girl finally reached the end of the forest, disclosing a field of bright flowers, on the other side. Ranging from purples to brilliant reds, like a delicate blanket. Her feet stumbled over the arrays of species as she tried to reach a clearing beneath a large oak tree. They were in varying shades of green: some were still budding, emerging a fresh, limey color into the summer, whilst the grown, flatly panned leaves brushed a lush emerald under the overhead sun. Rays of mellow sunlight filtered through the verdurous canopy, penetrating through the leaves and casting an unearthly green-gold luminescence over the ground.

She felt a hand grasp her shoulder, and admitting defeat and fatigue, she collapsed on the ground, her laugh spreading to everything and anything. Beside her fell the boy, his face wearing a grin almost as big as the tree. They lay there for hours, lavender and jasmines staining them with an aroma, and covering their faces. And there lie Erienne and James, the stars imprinting in their eyes, and the innocent souls that were no more.

October 1980 . . .

Footsteps echoed through the forest. They were desperate and hung in the air, like a somber warning. The sky should have been enough of a warning. Gloom settled, and the sky was absent of stars or clouds, simply just a plain, hopeless ash. Gnarled roots dipped into and out of the ground and twisted branches reached down, fingers grasping thin air. The trees were ancient, timeless as they disappeared into the sky, rough with age, yet their roughness had been worn down by the soft greenness of moss that had slowly made them unfamiliar.

The sound suddenly stopped, imposing the dreaded what if? But were slowly resumed by a familiar but different paced walk. Boot clad feet came into the clearing, and a head of matted hair, yet the presence of chestnut locks was (faintly) there. Brown eyes wandered throughout the forest analyzing as if time was simply honey, and pouring leisurely. The girl landed the heel of her boot on the now muddied ground, from the last rainfall. It was damp and dark, curled brown and yellow leaves embedded in it. The soft crunch of them on the ground made her wistful. They were a faded, shredded tapestry of autumn, she thought as she remembered the crisp golden hues and the vibrant oranges that had blanketed the forest floor the last time she had visited it, when her biggest problem was if she had passed divination. She remembered how they'd danced, pirouetted from the naked trees in a shower of color, bringing a warmth to the biting chill that was beginning to settle in.

The present began to set in her mind, and a cascade of emotions came on her, like a downpour when she was promised a drizzle. She began to run like she had never before, not even caring if she was heard by the murderous pursuers. Reaching the end, she was instead greeted with a sinister continuing. But all she wanted was an escape from this. She wanted pain.

She sprinted in, arms wide open and tears falling on her cheeks, leaving the last of humanity in her. Needle-like branches reached over, it seemed like enemies was all that God thought she needed. Sewing her heart together was lost, as they tore at her clothes, and making incisions in her soft skin. Her boots got caught in the mangled roots, and serrated rocks. Almost like a cliche, simultaneous omens, howls of wolves and owls hooting, as if a final warning.

At last, she was numb. Pushing through the last of the horrors, she fell on the dampened ground, the contrast of mud on her pale skin. Her blood pumped through her ears, and she could only hear the desperate and gasping breath or hers, determining life or death. She fell on her back and saw the plain shadow of the sky. Not a star in sight, not a hope in sight.

It felt like everything was blurred. Not seeing anything properly, muffled ears and no pain. Is this what dying felt like?

And there lie Erriene, empty eyes and a dead soul.

The same forest, although two different tales. One of innocence, one of guilt. One of childhood joy, one of melancholy. One of life and one of death.

NOTES !

Hello ! I am so sorry that it took this long for me to write a horrible prologue. It took exactly 14 minutes and I may publish a better version later <33. But this is all thanks to Lola,, for writing a stunning example and getting rid of my writers block,, read hers !

rosie was running. she was running fast, her legs carrying her as fast as possible. the beating of her heart pulsates through her ears, the rushing of her blood, the heavy steps of her feet. sweat was rolling down her tawny skin as her curled her blew wilding around her. she saw a field, bright and alive, the tall grass swaying in the wind. the 60's sun was blaring bright, scorching down on her. rosie was there, her feet about to land on the soft grass, and then...

she was running. faster than ever, the wind howling in her ears; the 70's sun was hidden behind the darkness of the gloomy clouds. it was questionable, to see her running down the damp pavement with bare feet and a summer dress, especially in the winter weather like this. she was about to reach muddy turf outside her squeezed house. her hands reached out towards the red door, about to grab the handle, let the warmth hit her with a sudden change, her fingers grazed the door knob and then...

lola,, the most talented person ever ?? uItrviolencs

- diana