Like a lot of stories, this one begins a long time ago, before you or me. The sky used to be blue then. They said she liked to stare up at it, letting her imagination run wild as she saw the white clouds taking shape.
Huh? White? Yeah, kid. At least, that’s what they tell me.
Her name was Jasmine. She had raven black hair, straight and long. And her eyes… her eyes were unnaturally purple. No one knows why. Maybe she really was from the fairies, if you believe in such things.
The girl was about ten or so. She didn’t know anything about the outside world. Her mother kept her lock away, out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so the witch thought.
Was she really a witch? Who knows? Some tell about how the old woman stole Jasmine when she just a babe, locked her up in that horrible mansion with the high walls.
Are you going to keep interrupting me with questions, or am I going to get to tell a story here?
Where was I…?
Oh, yeah. Jasmine was in her favorite spot that day, staring up at the clouds, when she met someone from the other side of the wall…
Jasmine lay on the grass at the edge of the courtyard. The long green blades tickled the back of her neck every time she moved. She closed her right eye, winking at the clouds overhead. She alternated and closed her left, seeing if the white wisps changed shaped with each blink.
A loud, shrill steam whistle called out from somewhere over the high wall next to the girl. She sighed and wished she could see the workers as they left for their homes. Jasmine desperately wanted to see someone real that wasn’t her mother.
In her head she imagined what these people looked like, what they dressed like. Maybe they went home to their own kids. She had a hard visualizing this though, so all the people were gray, faceless going home to smaller versions of gray, faceless children. Sometimes, these thoughts woke her up at night. She would have nightmares of faceless people taking her away.
The sound of someone yelling snapped Jasmine out of her darkening thoughts. She looked up in time to see a person, about as big as herself, fall onto the grassy hill. Jasmine caught a glimpse of the face, and saw it was a young boy, perhaps her own age. He landed hard, and rolled down to the corner, where the wall and grass touched.
Jasmine rushed over to him. Although he was breathing, she wasn’t sure how wounded he was. She looked up to see the top of the wall, trying to guess how far he must have fallen.
Jasmine looked back at the boy again. His face was hidden by long curly hair, but she could see his eyes were closed. Slowly, gingerly, Jasmine touched the tip of the boy’s left ear. She smiled at the thought of his pointed ears matching hers. She brushed a few strands of curly hair away from her face. He was dirty, but not from the fall or rolling on the ground.
His eyelids suddenly opened, revealing yellow eyes that sparkled like gold.
“Your eyes match mine too!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, drazt. I’m on the other side of the wall,” the boy managed to say in a hoarse whisper.
Listening to Atra Aeterna – Machinations at bandcamp.com
