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TREELINE
ft. Lavender Brown
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Ever since… ever since that day, Lavender found herself afraid.
She'd abandoned her dreams of writing fashion articles in the Witch Weekly after realizing that no one would read the articles of someone who couldn't even wear the fashion she covered, and instead penned interviews with prominent figures — a job it had been no short of a miracle to get with how she— after that day.
Mostly, she interviewed her ex-boyfriend and his friends, all of whom felt terribly guilty whenever they so much as looked at her. They'd stopped being able to look her in her eye (her one eye, the only one left after— after—) but they'd still talk to her whenever she asked.
Lavender almost felt guilty about it. But… every time she'd start to feel guilty, she'd look around, see people flinch when they saw her, see people hurry away or whisper to their kids 'don't look, don't look, walk away' and Lavender was reminded of everything that happened to her.
Most days, she hid it all behind polite smiles and quiet words.
It wasn't working today.
She wasn't sure why — it wasn't even a full moon today, and she rarely went out anyways, but… there was something about this Halloween that set her teeth on edge. It felt like someone was there, behind her, lurking. Watching.
It was worse wherever there were trees. It was worse wherever there were dark shadows, really… but trees were the worst. Trees, with the way light flickered between the leaves and left splotchy shadows, just perfect for people to hide in…
Lavender didn't like trees. Or maybe she just didn't like the treeline, didn't like the shadows where the sunlight and moonlight fell strangely and made shapes and faces in the dark.
So she spent her Halloween in the cold, crouched on the couch in her living room, wand in a deathgrip in her hands, staring out of the frosted window and watching the treeline. Silent.