Scars of the Past

Darkness engulfed Lucien then it dissipated. He was back in his childhood bedroom.

It was a moonless night. You would not know where the shadows began and ended.

A small black-haired boy was sleeping peacefully. This was the young Lucien. He was holding a stuffed toy horse in his arms, a gift for his seventh birthday from his mother. It would be the last gift he would receive from her.

The door opened with a creak as if giving off an ominous warning. Run. Run before the monsters find you.

There were no monsters.

It was just his mother who was in a strange sense of distaught. Her long white hair was in a mess. As if a storm had whisked her away and she had just been released from it but her mind had not been left unscathed. Her green eyes which would shine like a cat's brilliant green eyes even in the darkness did not shine.

They seemed . . .foggy.

A thin veil of fog seemed to cover her vibrant green eyes.