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"Ignorance is bliss until one confronts it

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"Ignorance is bliss until one confronts it."


Dnipro Raion, Ukraine
1947









THE WORLD WAS STARLIGHT and kaleidoscopic glass, silver scattered across skies of pearl. It was beauty and grace, like a spark of light in a place of emptiness. It was blindingly white, scintillating and luminous. It was glitter and gold and all the things that meant home. The world was constellations and kindness and unconditional love–

Until it wasn't.

The world was starlight and kaleidoscopic glass, silver scattered across skies of pearl. It was beauty and grace, like a spark of light in a place of–

Until it wasn't.

–emptiness. It was blindingly white, scintillating and luminous. It was glitter and gold and all the things that meant home. The world was constell-a-ti-on-s and k-ind-ne–anger and fear. The world was darkness and bleak cells, the bad men and the doctors and the white coats.

In the shadows of a cell absent of all light moved a distinct figure. If you stared into the cell long enough, you would wonder if the shape was merely a hallucination. But the accompanying sound of small, delicate feet shuffling across the ground would deter such a thought. The scent of blood and rust was pungent to the nose, lingering throughout the small room.

There was a click of a single lock.

Feet skittered across the ground, quiet and soft.

Lights glittered across the ceiling as electric bulbs flickered to life, the sound of soft static accompanying the man-made stars. With light permeating the room, a pile of blankets at the center let itself be known. It rustled, moving slightly as the sound of shuffling feet echoed once again.

A head poked out from the blankets, revealing a clump of pure white hair, glistening like strands of spooled pearls. A pair of eyes peeked out from the blankets, glacier-like and opaque. Her gaze focused hard on the door, an almost determined look flicking between her eyes.

Sometimes the door revealed the bad men, and the bad men would take her, screaming and kicking. They would take her blankets away, her stuffed dragon. They would put her in a cage and make it all hurt. Sometimes the door would reveal the white coats, and the white coats would take her to the White Room. And the White Room was scary, it made her want to hide under her blankets and never come out again.

But sometimes. . .

Sometimes the door would reveal–

A black head of hair poked into the room, followed by two crystalline eyes, blue like the sky.

CRYPTID | james b. barnes Where stories live. Discover now