The Girl With The Golden Eye

Ember was an unusual child. Always admired from every angle, always very popular and very very pretty. She had long black hair that curled in neat spirals and swam around her face in even the lightest breeze; she even had a defined figure at the age of 11. Her mum always said she would attract the wrong sort of attention from the public. At first, Ember thought this wasn't true, yes she got a lot of attention for the pure reason she had very unusual eye, one was normal dark brown and the other was pure honey-suckle gold, but how could having a different coloured eye be bad? Surely it wasn't. But she couldn't be more wrong…It was a good thing Embers mother never lived to see the brutal reality of her daughters future.

When I was around 8 weird stuff began happening, people followed me wherever I went. I would be flattered, but whenever someone was following me it was never for a good reason… They always looked angry, bitter, never adoring or kind like when I was a little girl. I must have had a thousand stalkers… For some bizarre reason, that never bothered me. Only looking back, do I realize how foolish I was as a child… One night when I was around 14, a strange hooded man began following me, this was normal so I carried on walking, not even paying attention to him. The man started whispering something under his breath, kind of like a chant. His bitter whispers made my skin crawl, and I flinched internally. I grew unnerved, kept peeking threw my dark curtain of hair at the man, not daring look him in the eye. I forgot to pay attention to where I was going and walked straight down a dark alley, into the hands of death himself. The darkness seemed to swarm around me, more murmurs joined that of the man and I grew steadily more frightened. What was happening? Why was it happening? Which way was home? Could I make it, even if I remembered? Would I... would I die here? My mum had always warned me this day would come… Why didn't I listen to her?! I felt myself being pushed into a sharp object, against an old wire fence; the metal tore at my cardigan and cut my unprotected back. I gasped in pain, shivering. This was it. My dying moments. I looked up, pushing my hair out of the way this time, to see my attacker… My own mother crouched in front of me, defensive, protective. What was going on?
"Ember, honey, you have to listen to me now… you remember what I told you a while ago about… this, attention you always get?" She whispered hoarsely. I nodded, speechless. Of course I remembered my mothers exact words… "If anything ever happens, anything… really really bad, I want you to run, and never look back, okay? Don't go home and don't stay anywhere for any longer then necessary. Don't ask why; just remember what I'm telling you. Just keep running, one day, no matter how long away that may be, you will be safe… I promise." At the time I'd never understood these words, what was the danger…? Would there ever be a danger? Of course there wouldn't. Mum was being silly. But now there was danger and I was more scared then you could ever imagine. "Remember what I said, everything I said. Now do as I told you and whatever you do don't go back to the house, got it?" I let out a muffled sob, pain gripping my insides at my mother sudden words. Against my better judgement, I turned and fled into the darkness, hugging myself as I ran. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I pushed my way through the swarming crowd, all of whom hissed, their hands reaching for me. I didn't dare look back, following my mothers advice word to word. Seconds later there was an ear-splitting crack from behind me and a flash of blood red light. "Exsisto volatilis, exsisto temerarus, exsisto fortis quod run, adepto meus parvulus recedentia absentis, ex vulnero quod opera via!"  I heard my mother screech in pain, white light surrounded me and I found myself standing in the middle of Florence park.

I clutched my sides and sat down on the bench sobbing. What had just happened… surely this couldn't be happening... Maybe it was a dream. A nightmare. I stood up, letting out a shaky breath. If I go home, maybe I'll find my mum waiting for me with dinner on the table… a smile on her face… Going against my mother's words, I turned around and walked down Warnock Avenue just as the sun began to rise, wait, how early was it?  My mum would kill me for being home so late! I began to sprint down the road, slowly progressing towards my house. As I turned into my street panic shot through me like an arrow. There were huge holes gouged into the concrete road, doors torn open and curtains flapping freely in the wind. I walked down the road to number 13, my home for the past three years, clutching my sides as the dry sobs that escaped my mouth rattled my body. The damage was worse here, the door torn off it hinges, the furniture strewn across the lawn, windows smashed and red scratches itching the walls. I moved slowly to the kitchen, my sobs becoming more and more defined. What…? What had done this? Who had done this? Was I still dreaming? No. I was awake. I could tell… But this wasn't possible… was it? I saw my dog chez' bed torn to shreds in the middle of our once so dainty kitchen, his collar lying tattered on the floor. I lent down and picked up the dog tag, badly scratched but still readable. I looked around the rest of the house, more devastation followed… Not to mention a lot more red scratches itched into the walls closer to the bedrooms. They kind of looked like words… No, not words. Symbols. Like some strange form of hieroglyph. I looked out over the balcony to see a never ending line of destruction dimly lit in the light of dawn. This was all wrong! How could this have happened in the short time I had been down the supermarket, picking up milk and eggs? I felt pain ripple through me and I gasped in shock as I reached to my back and realized my cardigan had torn, and my white dress was stained with blood. Blood splattered everywhere along my body, I'd only hurt my back… how did all this blood get there?

From then on I never doubted the fact that magic was real, even if there was nothing to suggest there was such a thing as magic anytime before that horrific, life-changing night.