In The Eye

Snow

They came silently like the first snow of the winter. Their suits were as pure as the cold specks themselves, though the only thing falling from the sky when they came for us was rain.
I live in a small village called Creaver. It's a small place with dense woods that are a labyrinth to anyone who has not grown up getting lost in them and having to find a way out since the day they could walk. Creaver is known for its streams, rivers, and brooks. The water is bluer than sky, so clear you can see the smooth rock bottoms with little fish snaking through the winding flow.
The day the snowy men came the skies were crying, each thunder clap a deafening sob that rolled through the sky. I woke early one day to see strange vehicles rumble down our silent cobbled paths. I saw them out my window, they were very strange. Ginger-haired and dark eyed. Nothing like us. Their scleras were white, not yellow. The inches of flesh not covered by armor was pinkish peach, not yellowed.
I saw one of the locals come out to talk to one of the strange men. I watched as more people came out to see what they would say. That was when I heard the first sound. A scream as the local man took a brutally placed blow with a nightstick and collapsed. More people ran out of their small wood houses to the fallen man. More people were struck, and more people ran out to help or see what was happening.
My heart beat against my ribs like an animal trying to free itself from a cage. I tried to move fast as I gathered things into a sack- a skewer, a jar, a penknife, my mother's sewing box, a first aid kit, clothing, and some other items. I tore the curtains off the rack and stuffed them in, too, in an unclear frantic desperation. I went to find my mother and younger siblings, but they were not there. But I did not have the time to be angry for being abandoned as one of the men dragged a woman towards their vehicles by the collar just outside my door. Outside, chaos. The intruders were going down our line of houses and dragging out the people as the others were running around in a frantic frenzy. I took to the woods.
In soft wet feet I slipped around the side of my house where there was a fishing hole in the shade of a tree surrounded by berry bushes. I ran through the orchard where fragrant strawberry bushes were plentiful, the bees nests were the size of basketballs up in the apple trees, and dozens of birdhouses and bird feeders had been hung from the pine tree at the end of all the rows of trees and bushes. Faster and faster I raced not daring to look back as the fresh smell of trees filled me up.