A/N: I have absolutely no clue where this is going. All I know, is that it so far pleases me greatly. I hope this much will keep you interested as I come up with what exactly I'm writing in the meantime. Enjoy.

"We don't write stories like that."

tick tock tick tock tick

Are you sure you want to hear this? The last one who heard this said the same. They had eagerly nodded and wiped their brow where a bead of sweat had collected. They were nervous to hear the very fine details, but enthralled with what they assumed the particulars would be.

You have said yes to this question thrice, and so I will relieve you of your anticipation. I will tell you a story that wasn't supposed to be.

In the beginning, there was a light and it had gone out from her eyes. Mud brown eyes were clouded over so quickly that she hadn't a chance to memorize every detail of her world she would soon sorely miss.

"Aeturnus Caecus," she heard, then she blinked, then everything was very dark.

When everything was dark and the light ceased to be, she felt her heart break. You and I both know, when we close our eyes we will open them soon enough and be allowed the gift of sight. She blinked very hard for nearly five minutes straight and she knew her gift was gone. Her gift.. was stolen. Gone were the days when she could spot red above all else and say "Oh there he is, I have found him." Gone were the days of longing gazes filled with a stretch of blue, endless and vast and freckled with puffs of clouds. Gone, gone, gone.

Her heart broke because of this sudden knowledge.

"R-ron...?" She swallowed very hard after her meek call, and pushed more of her voice forward into the darkness. "Ron? RONALD?"

Scuffling feet, echoes of battle, and the buzz and hum of magic in the air filled her ears. Filled her ears so much that she barely heard him when he stumbled down beside her.

"Ginny! Oh god, what is it, what... Ginny look at me!"

But she honestly thought she was looking at him. She couldn't help it... so many screams and so many cries of anguish. Whose though? Her fellow soldiers, or those of the opposition? From where did they come? Her head turned right, her head turned left.

"Ronald! Where are you... I can't..."

"GINNY LOOK AT ME!"

"I CAN'T!"

And all at once, she accepted the darkness as one does when they are so weary. She closed her eyes, fell forward into arms she could only feel, and let her self fall into a world of color she could only just remember. Color she would soon forget, and images she'd never see again.

"We don't write stories like that. Well... maybe we do. But they aren't stories that just pop into our heads one day. They are stories that stem from real events, stories that though rare in life.. happened once enough for them to become immortal."