Prologue

Prologue 

 

“The day he rode into town things changed. Cars had already come out by this time. But this man rode a horse, not just any horse but the most beautiful creature that these or any eyes have ever seen. He rode atop a white horse, which appeared to me a giant, looking back it might have been 18 or so hands. When I say White I mean solid white, no spots anywhere to be found with the fiercest red eyes, its coat even seemed to glow come to think about it. But the horse paled in comparison to the man, who would be giant even by today’s standards, He had to be at least 7 foot tall. He wore leather boots that came to his calf and the top of them drooped town to about half way down. His gloves were the same black leather as his boots but where the fingers where there where multiple layers of shining silver. But his cloak was what made you notice, it was the full length of his body in the back, The front fit snuggly to the giants figure, he had the hood of the cloak pulled down over his face at all times, But I did notice a scar across his ghostly white eyes as he passed me in the rode. I still remember him locking eyes with me and having the feeling that something bad was going to happen. When he was past me I looked back and strapped across his back was the longest sword I have ever seen in my life. It had a plate of gold that went from the handle to a little less than half the length of the sword and the other half seemed to be glowing red.”

 

“So, that’s the day you went blind” the reporter asked

“Yes and no.” The old women answered, in a voice that could only be after a lifetime of smoking.

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Ok? I’m confused, are you blind or not?”

“Of course I’m blind look at my eyes silly boy”

    

He had already looked at the women’s eyes, what he saw had made him shiver, She had no color to her eyes not even the grayish color you sometimes see with the born blind, they where all white where the color should be, as if someone had played a cruel joke and polished her eyes to a painful white shine, the color of an opal.

 

“Then what do you mean by yes and no?”

“Well yes in the manner I can’t see through my own eyes and n….”

“You can see through others?”

“Oh, I must be mistaken, am I here to interview you?”

 The reporter blushed. He had not meant to speak up; he’s usually so CCC, cool calm and collected, as his mom would always say. He caught himself smiling at the thought of his mom.

 

“No maim, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me I guess…”

“Well, now were even, let me start over”  

 

She looked up at the boy with a stern look on her face which as the boy watched melted into a wry smile and eventually a laugh. He could have swore those white eyes of hers were staring at him, But as soon as he thought he realized how crazy that sounded. He opened his notebook in preparation to begin writing the woman’s story.

 

“A notebook, I had thought you would have used one of the tape recorders.”

“I prefer doing it this way, if that’s all right?...”

 

The truth was he hated doing it this way; he had left his tape recorder back at the office and did not want to stall in the chance the old women would change her mind, lord knows the paper has been trying to get this interview for the past 70 years.

 

“This way you know I’m listing” the reporter looked up at the women 

“Did they teach you how to cover your a*s like that in reporter school or are you a natural”

 

The boy looked at the women and smiled

 

“Natural”

“I thought so. Where was I?”

 

 

After hearing the women’s story the writer was still unsure if he believed it or not. But deadlines are deadlines and he had pushed his to the limit, out of fear of being fired he submitted the story to the editor. To the reporters surprise the story was published the next day as a page five feature. As weeks passed the reporter began to notice strangers show up around town, had the reporter not have been in such demand at the paper he may have questioned their sudden appearance. As weeks passed the reporter began to notice the men more. As he was walking out of the building and on the way home, he could have sworn one of the men had followed him home. Ever since then there had been a blue sedan parked in front of his house. Are they following me the reporter thought, but who are ‘they’ and what could I have that ‘they’ would want. It was only later that he remembered something the lady had said she remembered. After the man had killed all those people, he had gone to each body and said a prayer, must be some religious nut he thought, for the dead men’s souls. After that she had said she had heard footsteps and men speaking in a language she could not understand. What were these men doing that the women had said she heard and could these be the men she had heard. That was over seventy years ago they would have to be at least ninety today. He was also still unsure about the women’s story; after all, memories can change over time.