The Scarlet Phantom: Finding the Light in the Darkest of Times

Cody

The tiny hut had been her whole world. To the scared little girl, the earth was not round or flat. It was cylindric, held up by rotting planks of wood and sheltered by a withering hay roof, held up my a mud floor with no doors or windows, no source of ventilation and no source of light or proof of a world beyond.

Only the stench. The olfactory torture of the burning stench of spilled liquor and the sad, sad woman who hadn't showered in months hanging heavy and thick in the room. Humid. Suffocating. Like a dark cloud of smoke. The shards of broken bottles littering the floor and the maggots crawling up her arms as she curled in over herself, sniveling in the corner, attempting desperately to oqupy as little space as possible. Hoping. Praying. That her mother would be too wasted to remember she existed as she trembled, sometimes feverishly so, her forehead dangerously hot and her skin dangerously pale and cold, painted with rashes and bruises, her limbs too skinny for her to stand.

The, one day, The door opened. She'd never known it even existed. And she was dragged through the field of broken glass and into the light. The blinding light. The stench which had marked itself in her forever replaced suddenly by clean air, her eyes closed shut at the clear sky. Sky. A blue dome with white fluffs. A endless dome. Another roof.

She was free. Finally free. With a whole new hut to explore, where she could breathe freely, where she could take a step without the danger of cutting her leg on broken glass. But then, the light disappeared, not as far away as before, but just across the shackles in her hands, the cranes, the pyramids of brick and wood, the hills of cement, hazard tapes which were merely a formality and beyond the incomplete walls of grey that were help up by a fragile structure of wood as the building was being constructed. 

But she wasn't as strong as the others, who carried logs of wood and dragged carts of cement, fearing the wrath of the guards who were assigned to keep them in order, the shackles bound to their legs. But she was too frail and too sick. So she was the brunt all the bullying, by her fellow shackle-bound labors and the large hefty guards with a heart of coal. And there she was again, hiding in the cold embrace of darkness, under a roof of wooden planks, bleeding at the lips.

'Hey! Hey you!'

That voice . That voice was like a melody being played by a master pianist, the melody cheerful in a cadence of innocence and warmth. Like the sound of the bells of the cattle which passed your house every morning. Like the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen, instantly casting the image of your loving mother in your mind. Like the sound of clinking of plates, immediately creating the smell of your favorite home cooked meal. Like the sound of laughter. Like the sound of joy. Like the sound of Childhood. A happy one. And dare she say...The sound of a loving, warm home.

Trembling, knowing full well this was most probably, no most defenitly, was a dreadful idea, she raised her head. Her dead, hallow eyes met his.His eyes were the perfect antonym to her's, full of life. A pair of charmingly beautiful large downturned almond shaped eyes that flowed with reflections beautiful light and vibrant colors against the canvas of his beautifully clear stormy grey irises. His eyes perfectly captured the essence of childhood she never had, doe eyed and hopeful, looking around the world with childish wonder yet with a separate layer under them which hinted to a sense maturity beyond his years. A warm, loving and comforting ambience wrapped around him, following him around wherever he went, making you smile when you thought you'd never feel joy again. He was no more than seven, a carless and compassionate smile on his lips, as if in a glance he knew. He knew everything there was to know about her. And he understood her, giving off a temperament as pure as a new born child. He was evidently much well-fed and well lived than rest of them, looking healthy with beautiful, silky golden  and perfectly imperfectly styled raven hair, perfect pearly white teeth set in a small, round face complemented by a hint of childish roundness around his chin.  If was as if an hallo was shining like the sun behind him.