Elene Davis has been diagnosed with optophobhia; the fear of opening one's eyes, since the age of five. For Elene, darkness is her safe harbor from the demons of the outside world.
When Elene ends up in an accident, a friend of hers visits her with...
❝Every closed eye is not sleeping, and every open eye is not seeing.❞
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The sunshine dawned grace upon the golden locks that cast over her face; the warmth infusing with the icy pallor of her skin. A soft breeze moved in harmony with her bouncy steps on the cobblestone path. It was not every day the sun shined on the streets of the town, and she was more than happy to get a little sunshine.
Around her were a few people, either milling around a particular shop or gushing about the latest vintage edition that had appeared in the market. Those people whispered sweet nothings.
However, every time a head whirled in her direction, nothing but silence had prevailed; replacing the whispers. Regardless, she paid no heed to them; her heart harbored no hate for someone she could not see.
Keeping a firm hand on her stick, she continued to wander in the vintage-themed market of the town of Meadowille. Every now and then, her mind would get occupied with the occasional praise of a shop or two, to which she would react upon; trying to locate the shop. Two strange voices, high pitched and cringe-y, chatted about the shop in the far corner of the market, and of the various goods, it harbored. For her, it was a bright chance to pursue those girls, listening to the loud clanking of their heels hitting the stones.
Painful to hear, they were, but she wanted to see that shop, and she sure was able to conjure up the strength to listen to their rantings on the hot boy that had come to the town as a freshman this year.
Maintaining a distance from the bodies around her, she went down the street.
Sliding up in her thick obsidian fur coat was her best decision for there had been signs of the arrival of the much-dreaded frost.
Those with glasses feared it for the havoc it created for them and their glasses, while those without would betwixt their fingers in their palms, cursing God for bestowing such a cold over them. The blind pitied themselves for not being able to delve deeper into the embrace of those beautiful colors surrounding them, and the deaf cried for not being able to hear the snow falling down.
For her, it was different. She wanted nothing of such sort. Satisfied she was, with the darkness engulfing her vision even when she was able to see.
Modernized as they were, the people of Meadowille often complained over petty things, but she was no better; how selfish she was in her grief! And it made her ponder over the unjust, unruly prospect of life. The thing controlling their lives was water, whilst her fear governed her existence.
In her bothersome quarrel with herself, she had missed the shift of the wind that held witness to the change of the girls' direction. Naturally, she followed.
She kept a firm ear on their blabbering as gusts of winds charged in their direction with a continuous motion. The winds didn't stop, nor did the mouths ahead of her. One of them said, "Would you believe that? The dust will ruin my eyes, and I don't plan to go to the party tonight with red eyes. How do red, puffy eyes come off as impressive to a new hot guy such as Xander?"
