Status: Hiatus.
Earthshine
Iridum
A long sigh escaped her natural red lips, becoming visible in the cool air. The cold grey stone against her back pushed into the backside of her ribcage making the exhale stiff and pressured. She reached up to tuck another piece of stray hair under the lose hood that shielded her head from the cold- from the outside world. Beacon Hills Cemetery was often her escape. A place that filled the gaps of her being; that restored her.
I should be here too, she thought to herself. Six feet under. Rot and bone.
Rowan watched as the day tenant, the old man from 207 Cherry View Avenue, started his daily routine. He pulled out a rusty ring of various keys, unlocking the old shed. The old man never minded her company, but she didn’t know how the boy who worked the ‘graveyard’ shift would deal with her reoccurring presence. The old man spoke to himself and spoke to her on occasion, as if nothing were strange. However, the boy was often distracted with injuries it seemed.
She sighed again, pulling her dark sleeves past her fingers, gripping her legs closer to her chest. It was the day Rowan would return to Beacon Hills High School. Although it was well into the school year, she would be entering into the later quarter of her sophomore year.
She squeezed her eyes for a long moment; relishing the shapes and surrealistic images that formed beneath the shadows of her eyelids. When she opened them again the fog was more apparent through the struggling rays of the sun. Bringing herself to her feet, she walked over crunching leaves to her car before speeding off from her haven of comfort.
Rowan pulled into the parking lot at Beacon Hills High, parking adjacent to an old blue jeep. She pulled down the visor, taking a deep breath before glancing at herself in the mirror.
Her scars had healed over well, most barely visible; but there was one that would never heal. She raised her gaze to meet her reflection, staring into the once crystal clear blue eyes. As she’d learned, trauma to the head sometimes resulted in heterochromia. It was more apparent now as the sun illuminated her right eye, which was now brown in overall color with one spared fifth still a faint blue. Her heart broke at the sight. All of her family possessed the same uncanny ice like eyes; ranging in shades of blue or turquoise. But no longer her. The sole survivor now branded the disgrace of a murky brown eye, the one reminder that she had no family; that she was the anomalous.
Shutting the visor, Rowan grabbed her satchel. Gliding out of the car the same time as the owner of the adjacently parked jeep. She paid little attention to any other person walking fearlessly toward the school.
Stiles fiddled with his keys, momentarily glancing at the girl walking his way before returning to fumbling with the metal rings. It was the moment that the lock on his jeep triggered did the image lock in his mind.
She was back.
I should be here too, she thought to herself. Six feet under. Rot and bone.
Rowan watched as the day tenant, the old man from 207 Cherry View Avenue, started his daily routine. He pulled out a rusty ring of various keys, unlocking the old shed. The old man never minded her company, but she didn’t know how the boy who worked the ‘graveyard’ shift would deal with her reoccurring presence. The old man spoke to himself and spoke to her on occasion, as if nothing were strange. However, the boy was often distracted with injuries it seemed.
She sighed again, pulling her dark sleeves past her fingers, gripping her legs closer to her chest. It was the day Rowan would return to Beacon Hills High School. Although it was well into the school year, she would be entering into the later quarter of her sophomore year.
She squeezed her eyes for a long moment; relishing the shapes and surrealistic images that formed beneath the shadows of her eyelids. When she opened them again the fog was more apparent through the struggling rays of the sun. Bringing herself to her feet, she walked over crunching leaves to her car before speeding off from her haven of comfort.
Rowan pulled into the parking lot at Beacon Hills High, parking adjacent to an old blue jeep. She pulled down the visor, taking a deep breath before glancing at herself in the mirror.
Her scars had healed over well, most barely visible; but there was one that would never heal. She raised her gaze to meet her reflection, staring into the once crystal clear blue eyes. As she’d learned, trauma to the head sometimes resulted in heterochromia. It was more apparent now as the sun illuminated her right eye, which was now brown in overall color with one spared fifth still a faint blue. Her heart broke at the sight. All of her family possessed the same uncanny ice like eyes; ranging in shades of blue or turquoise. But no longer her. The sole survivor now branded the disgrace of a murky brown eye, the one reminder that she had no family; that she was the anomalous.
Shutting the visor, Rowan grabbed her satchel. Gliding out of the car the same time as the owner of the adjacently parked jeep. She paid little attention to any other person walking fearlessly toward the school.
Stiles fiddled with his keys, momentarily glancing at the girl walking his way before returning to fumbling with the metal rings. It was the moment that the lock on his jeep triggered did the image lock in his mind.
She was back.
♠ ♠ ♠
Yeah. I slacked off on my other stories. It might take some time to get back into the swing of things, but I'm hoping this one goes all the way through. This is just the beginning, so don't judge to harshly. Feedback is always appreciated.