prologue: them

People walked by as they sat. They were miles apart but they all were the same. They all knew the light and the dark of the desolate world. They felt, experienced, and understood more than most. They had lost they had given up on the world once in their lives.

She sat by her window. The swaying leaves fell gently to the ground. The wind blew and wiped her cheek as she sat there solemnly, with endless quiet surrounding her. Her heart sank as her conscious wandered through her past like an old ghost walking down a hall of pictures, nearly forgotten. Feeling so close, yet far from her once loved memories. Her long blond hair slipped off her shoulder as she leapt down from her window sill, closing the curtains silently. She turned and walked into the growing darkness alone.

He ran down the streets. Heavy steps followed as he turned the corner. A bottle flew by as he ran past a pile of trash lying at the base of the wall, it shattered against the already dirty street.. He closed his leather jacket tighter, repressing a shudder as he continued on despite the bitter cold. His dark hair and clothes seemed to merge with the shadows he clung to, making it difficult to see him. His pursuer cursed and sputtered bitterly. He ran back an ally trying to escape like a cat running from a rabid dog. Another bottle broke against the wall near him, glass flying. Dark red blood slowly dripped down his arm. He ran faster, breath rapid and shallow. His feet pulled him into the night, slowly fading into the dark.

She sat on the edge of the well. Ignoring the heavy rain surrounding her. Her bitter tears mixing in and slowly falling deep into the well, as lost as she was. Her long chestnut hair dripped like ink down her shoulders, as lifeless as the world around her. She stared into the water of the well. She watched her reflection ripple as if unsure of what to present back. She closed her eyes and stood up as she walked into the darkness and pouring rain.

The door slammed behind him. Air rushing around him from the force of the door. They had kicked him out, no longer caring for an unwanted boy. The flames seemed to reach towards him desperately, as though they knew him, like a lost relative finally found. They almost held a certain comfort in them, they always had. He walked out the old gate. His fingertips faintly brushed against the course lichen stuck to it. The sky was cloudy, and the air was dry and cold. He was alone, with only the reaching fire for company. One foot in front of the other, he walked towards the forest with nothing but worn clothes and a hat to cover his light, messy hair.

Not everything works as one would wish and not all are equal. from the moment were born our value is determined by our circumstances, both voluntary or not. this will not change.

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