Blind

Without fumbling she reached beneath the table and wrapped her fingers around a small cage, in which the small form of a bird fluttered feebly against the bars. This she placed next to her carefully, before reaching up and taking a lump of clay from beside a large metal cauldron. She formed it into the shape of a doll and rested it on her lap. The bird in the cage screamed and pecked at her when she reached inside and snatched it up, but she paid it no mind. Muttering under her breath she held the bird over the pot and grabbed its head with her free hand, slowly she twisted and pulled until it detached and blood spilled into the waiting vessel. She squeezed the body roughly to extract every drop before placing it back into the cage.

The candle on the altar flickered and a hushed whisper cut through the air behind her. She picked up the doll on her lap and thrust it into the blood, using her thumbs to gouge into the spaces where its eyes should have been. She pressed until her thumbs erupted from the back of its head and scraped against the pot.

The door to the cellar burst open and something cold and fleeting brushed against her wounded face. A whisper of icy air slid into her ear.

'Blood will spill.'

Nereida smiled. Her ancestors were going to work.

*****

Sierra had never seen Nereida again, and lived on in ignorance about her revenge as she grew used to life as a blind woman. She had to resign from the pageant circuit. She simply could not compete with no sight. A dance number could mean a broken ankle, and her mother would not allow her to attempt to participate. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that her career was over and bought herself a small apartment in London in which to try and adjust to her new existence.

As a consequence of her ruthless behavior while competing she soon found herself utterly alone. Girls who once talked warmly with her backstage suddenly utterly ignored her. Even her own mother did not visit her unless she had no choice. Sierra was totally without friends and the isolation began to eat away at her. Her only real contact with the outside world was through her maid, who did all her cleaning, cooking and shopping for her. She learned how to read braille to give herself some kind of escapism from it all, but all it did was make her miss the life she had lost even more. Eventually she stopped leaving the house altogether, and not long after that her mind began to fail her and paranoia set in.

The day that she heard the robin was the day that she decided she needed to change. As she sat listening to its song she thought of all the places she had been and the things she had done before her sight had been taken from her. She had travelled the world and met hundreds of people, she had won crowns and titles and been adored. The sound of that small birds voice spurred her into action. She had once been somebody, and she would be somebody again. If that tiny bird could risk his life out there, so could she!

Awkwardly she threw on a thick coat over her jumper dress and picked up the cane that her hospital visitor had left beside her chair the previous day. Carefully she followed its guiding point and made her way over to the door. Briefly she paused with her hand on the knob, her blank eyes boring into the wood defiantly. She was going out, she was actually going to do it. Behind her the robin trilled enthusiastically and she pushed her way out into the hall. For a moment she waited with baited breath, expecting something dramatic to happen, but nothing did. The sounds outside grew no more threatening and nothing raced down the
stairs to get her. She leaned a little more heavily on her cane and tested the immediate vicinity. It seemed nothing had moved since she had returned from her last hospital visit. There was still a pot plant to the left of her door and she felt the stick rustle through a pile of letters beside her. She always waited for her maid to bring in any mail, but that day she decided to collect it herself. Carefully she stooped and reached out, her hand closing around the paper just as the doors at the building entrance swung inwards. A gust of cold air buffeted her and she stood up sharply, turning her head to face whoever had entered.