Seeing Blind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Sometimes you do not need your eyes to see.

Submitted: April 26, 2018

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Submitted: April 26, 2018

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Seeing Blind

Not satisfied with the damage, the cracks and destruction, that they have peppered me all over with, they have chased me here. Their mistake; they should have left me there where I would surely have shattered into a million pieces.

Running blind, I stumbled, almost fell. If they had picked another direction to chase me in, they would have won. I would have been clueless as to where to go, where to tread. But here, I know it blind-folded.

The forest is mine! I know every stick, every root. The positions of the stumps, the dips, the hollows; all of them are imprinted on my mind. I know where to hide so that they will never find me, where to double back and muddle them, and even with their sight I will get them lost.

The forest sighs around me, welcoming me home. I can stop running now. I’ll wait and let them catch me up, let them be witness to my lack of fear. Will they take it as a warning and back away? No, not them. They believe that they are invincible, that I am theirs for the taking. Poor deluded fools. If they had not been quite so cruel I might find myself pitying them. Now I know that they deserve everything that they get.

Ah, they see me now! Look at their gleeful faces. They think that I have stopped from fear, that I am afraid to go any further. How I wish that they could know just how really wrong they are. I am relying on my ears to let me know when the time is right to turn and take flight. I can wait until they are almost upon me before stepping, light-footed and confident, away.

Now! I turn, and, barely making a sound, I head off deeper into the forest. They bang and crash and stumble their way behind me but I do not once even snag my skin. One tumbles and falls; the groans and the curses send silent laughter bubbling up my throat. The birds answer with chirrups and twitters, a fox barks its derision in the distance.

With my eyes bound I can see my way more clearly than they can through their own uncovered ones. They are so ignorant that they cannot even see that which is in front of their own faces. Fools! Cruel and spineless, they would show me no mercy and I have none for them.

On we run. There are sudden drops here, where the ground stops, drops down to rocks and ground below. I know the position of each and every one, but one of my hunters has fallen foul, I hear the thud of his landing and he does not get up.

So blind they were, to take me home. The trees will work with me too, moving branches aside for me but putting them straight back to block their paths. How many of them are left in pursuit? Three, I think, and they are all puffing, struggling for breath while I feel as invigorated as when I entered.

Shall I take them to him? He would enjoy meeting them, exacting retribution on those who hunted down his mate for sport. Should I let him have one or two of them? Yes, I think his grief and his patience deserve a reward.

I head off further into the forest. I am seeking the Hart of the Heart. They will think him another deer, maybe, a big one, but he will have their blood in retribution and revenge. I have to hold myself back, deliberately slow my pace so that I do not lose them. He’s there ahead of me. I can’t see him but I can feel him, smell him, hear him rise to his feet.

Antlers, you might think you’ve seen. The Hart’s antlers are like daggers and I hear him make contact, a thrust and a cracking sound. I can almost hear the blood oozing from the wounds. The Hart breathes out a thank you. Humankind he will never forgive for making him destined to live alone for how ever many years the Goddess graces him with.

Just one pursuer left now. I can smell his fear, taste it even. If he could get out of the forest and give up the chase he would, but he is confused, totally lost. And his terror is destroying his sight far more than this blindfold is affecting mine.

I can’t resist it, even though I know it is cruel. I drop down in front of him, ready to have a little game. He gasps, perhaps fearing me now. When I look at the cracks that splinter their way across my body, I know he has good reason to be afraid.

I lightly take to my feet and weave in and out of the trees and the shrubbery. He blunders his way behind me, perhaps thinking that I might lead him through the forest and out of it. No way, I know exactly where I am heading, exactly when to dip my head and bow down. The ivy noose snags around his neck, pulls him back and up. I get no enjoyment from hearing him suffocate, struggling for breath all the way, but I know that if the positions were reversed there would be some cause for celebration on his part.

It’s over now. They are all gone, my pursuers. Should I remove the blindfold? No, I’ll leave it be. I’m home again, a forest creature born and bred. The forest will take care of me, indeed it is already welcoming me back. To remove the blindfold will show me the cracks – better keep them hidden and be as strong as I feel.

Witch-girl, forest dweller, pagan demoness. They can call me what they like, but they cannot defeat me.

 


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