Numbness.
Paralyzing fear, mixed with immobilized muscles and an awful, horrid stench.
It felt like weeks, months, maybe even years. I had no sense of time, no way to tell where I was, and for a little while, I think I lost myself completely.
Falling, unable to breathe, being smothered by darkness. My screams and pleas for help never made it past my ice cold lips, forever lost in the anguish.
Silent burning tears spilled from my tired eyes, and they fell hopelessly down my cheeks in a drip-drop rhythm that knocked hollowly at my aching heart.
Someone please help.
And then it was over.
Just as suddenly, and as frighteningly, as it had started. The space around me was whisked away by what seemed could only be my imagination. From the deep darkness, pools of damp mist and dulled light slowly crept into the scene. All at once, a rush of wind invaded my lungs, filling them to the brim. The same gust of air forced my still teary eyes open, though I swear I never had them closed. I hit a hard, desolate surface, and I remember gripping onto the dirty ground, letting the earth collide with my hands, just to ensure myself that I was alive.
The air had changed. The winds grew humid and thick, hot and sticky with particles of ash and dirt. I kept low to the ground, not raising my head for I was fearful of what I might see.
I next remember the shadows; twitching, ugly things that rose from beneath the earth as if they were sprouting from hell. Small daunting yellow eyes locked with mine, and there was nothing familiar about them. No human, no animal, not even the scariest sea creature from the deepest depths of the ocean had these eyes.
I had to run.
Foolishly stumbling, I tried to scramble to my feet. But any coordination I had was gone, and I was left on my knees, being attacked every second by sharp, dagger like claws.
The pain was unreal, tormenting, excruciating.
Screams escaped my throat without command. They were raspy and hoarse, but I continued to howl and cry until I noticed pools of blood gathering around my hands. The hot, red liquid trilled down my forehead and cheeks, splashing on the ground and then meeting with the other gore until nothing in my sight was anything but crimson death.
I can vaguely remember another shadow approaching. But this shadow owned no beady, vicious yellow eyes.
With this second being here, the brutal assault of sharp talons from the savage shadows ceased, and I was lifted onto what felt to be someone's broad shoulder. My bones, skin, and muscles yelped at the sudden new impact, every step this entity made was dreadful. I couldn't defend myself, or even gather the thoughts to try and break loose.
Many muffled voices mixed in my head, more shadows moved about, and I grew weaker and weaker with every passing moment.
Just before losing consciousness, my nose gathered a mix of sweat, musk, and a bit of cologne from my capture.
And then that was it.
Numbness.
Sand that was as white as snow guided me down the shore. Crystal clear water lapped at my feet as I rushed toward the dock. I dodged a few tourists as I made my way up some old salt-worn wooden steps that served as a path onto the dock, and my rushed pace didn't slow even as the rough wood agitated my bare feet.
At the end of the way was a huge ship, newly docked. Heavy set men were already busy unloading crate after crate, which were most likely filled with trade goods.
Helping with the unloading, was a man about the age of forty. Years of being out in the salty sea air had roughed out his skin, and the sun had colored it dark. His hair, thick and brown, was long and kept out of his face by a ponytail. Numerous tattoos painted his arms from his younger years, and his pants were always tucked messily into fisherman's boots.
I ran to him, placing a contrasting pale hand to his tanned shoulder.
"I'm sorry I'm late dad." I apologized, stepping back and taking one of the crates from his hands.
My dad, known around the Port as Nim, looked me up and down. "No shoes again, eh?"
I shrugged, "Shouldn't really be a surprise anymore."
My dad gave a short chuckle, "No it shouldn't. But you're going to be in for a surprise one day when one of those toes goes missing. This ain't kids work Lucy."
"I know dad."
"Say, why don't you go help unload all the personal luggage those immigrants brought over, and while you're at it, you can help them get to their quarters. Ya' know, show 'em around and stuff."
I nodded my head in agreement, and headed off to where the passengers were unloading.
To my displeasure, I woke from a dead like slumber with a dry tongue and a fuller bladder.
My eyesight was blurred, as if someone had deluded it. I blinked furiously but it changed nothing. Different smells of spices, polished woods, sweat, and even some cologne mixed in the air and marked my whereabouts as an unfamiliar territory.
Below me I could feel a bed that was not my own, and my heart solidified into a rock that weighed my chest down to the sheets.
The rest of my body was on fire. My skin felt fried, and my head was filled with a thousand elephants stomping and raging about. With what little movement I had attempted with my arms and legs, I gathered that I was too sore to make any extreme or sudden movements.
A few moments later, a cold hand pressed to my forehead. The sudden iciness of the large, tough hand had forced my reflexes to jerk back, a move that I soon regretted.
The hand quickly withdrew. "Don't move." The response was short and sharp. Not quite angry but defiantly lacking any emotion for my state.
From the voice and the beefiness of the hand, I gathered that it belonged to a male. He placed his hand back on my forehead once more and took it off again a few moments later.
I heard a drawer open, and then the sound of pills being shaken from a bottle.
"Fever's back." He huffed, "Take these."
I rubbed my eyes for the billionth time so it seemed, but their fogged state still remained, "I can't see." I said through frustration.
"It's a spell." He said as he grabbed one of my hands and placed the pills in them.
My eyebrows furrowed, "A spell?"
"It only obscures your vision temporarily. It'll wear off in an hour or two." Along with the pills he supplied my other hand with a small cup of water; at least I guessed it was water. I hoped it was, my throat was dryer than a desert.
I placed the two pills on my tongue and then tossed the contents of the cup into my mouth with them. Water, thank god.
Questions bottled up in my head like mad, but there was one concern that needed to be taken care of before an interrogation could ensue. I need to find a bathroom.
I sighed. There wasn't going to be anyway to address this situation without it getting awkward. Hell, I'm practically blind and stuck in a room with a complete male stranger.
Whoever had been talking to me was now up and messing with things around the room. Every now and then sounds of scraping metal would annoyingly agitate my already sickening headache. I figured he was messing with weapons. Even better.
"I have to pee." I blurted. I've never really been one to beat around the bush, no matter the situation.
All of the background noise stopped, and the stranger let out an annoyed sigh, which was followed by the sound of a creaking door.
"Yuffie!" He called out.
There was a moment of stiff silence before the summoned helper entered the room.
"What's up?" Yuffie, the new voice, was much more jovial than the pill dealer.
"You take care of things from here." He said as his footsteps faded and the door closed.
I firstly remember being jealous. I'd lived on the sunny beaches of Port Silvermead my whole life and my pale skin wouldn't ever even tolerate going one shade darker. All it ever did was burn and peel. It was a vicious cycle, burn and then peel. Sometimes it would blister if the damage was bad enough, but most times it was just burn and then peel.
I was jealous because I always saw myself as awkwardly tall. I was tallest in my class every year, and by the time I was fourteen I had grown to be eye level with my father. Granted, I did stop growing after that, but I still towered over most girls.
The jealously didn't stop there. My head was home to an unmanageable lion's mane. It was hard to brush through, it was hard to style, it was thick and hot, and for years I begged my father to let me dye it brown, but he refused because he liked the red. He told me I got the crazy red hair from my mom, which is the reason why even after I moved out, I kept it red.
She stepped off the boat wearing a white-long sleeved blouse, khaki pants, and boots that were fit for riding. All of her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in intricate braids and loops, and her skin was tanned just ever so lightly.
In one hand she carried a large piece of luggage, and her other hand supported a young child as he rested on her hip, though I determined quickly that she was much too young to have a child of her own.
"I can take that for you if you'd like." I offered, extending a hand towards the luggage.
She was hesitant and looked at me strangely, but ended up releasing the bag into my grasp.
Of course she would have looked at me weird. There I was barefoot, sunburned, dressed in worn jean shorts and a stained "Bubba's Bar & Grill" shirt.
"He's adorable, what's his name?" I asked, just trying to start conversation.
"James." She replied softly, "I babysit him sometimes for Ms. Cleary."
As if on cue, a middle aged woman stepped in and took James into her own arms. Even though her makeup seemed smudged and her eyes were tearing, she smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Elyse. I'm glad I can always count on you." After that she turned and left with James.
Elyse waited and watched as Ms. Cleary took James down the dock and joined some other middle aged women and their children.
"She's just emotional because, well, Mr. Cleary wasn't the husband she thought him to be. It took just about half the town to convince her to pack up her things and move here with James. I think it was for the best though, this place seems lovely."
"I love it here." I added, not really quite sure what to say. "I'm sure Ms. Cleary and James will love it as well."
She smiled, and then offered her hand, "I'm Elyse Elswood of Glasscoast."
"I'm Lucille Williams, but you can call me Lucy." I shook her hand.