Miron walked home from his usual late shift from the factory and came home to be greeted by silence instead. As he enters the living-room he finds a dark smokey figure standing over his dead parents and bulldog Vasyl. The figure faced him with a broad smile, revealing oversized canines and mouth covered in blood with piercing sapphire-blue eyes and sliced pupils like a cat's. Snigger emitted from the figure.435Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfFbm1ZGnkK
Suddenly from the ceiling down the wall more blood began to drip and the floor was soon soaked in it.
Cold terror and panic seized Miron. All he could do was stare in horror at the sight while his stomach began to knot and his mouth felt dry of a sudden. A sickly sweet odour and the copper scent of blood penetrated Miron's nostrils and made him nauseous. Without thinking he looked down at his hands, they were covered in blood. It was his own blood seeping out from his pores and formed to a long red thick string.435Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHR3t3ib5dN
"It is time. You are ready." Chuckled the figure with a sinister deep voice.
Rapidly with a loud gasp, Miron sat up from his bed. He panted while staring at his desk across the room and drops of sweat rolled from his brow. After a moment he blinked as he could gather his thoughts it was just a nightmare. He sighed relieved and looked around the room to be sure. Soon he fell back and rubbed his face as well as wipe away a few drops of sweat. Soon he decided to head to the bathroom and wash it off and maybe it will help calm his nerves. In the bathroom, he turned on the light and staggered slightly towards the basin. Miron splashed some cold water to his face and soon dried with a towel. Before retreating he took a look in the mirror. He stared and gasped in awe of what he saw. His right eye was open, he can see again with both eyes. But what made it terrifying was the iris was dark red. As a reflex Miron held up a hand over his right new eye and quickly removed to see if it's just a dream. It was still there, looking back at him surprised as he was but it gave a fierce impression nevertheless.
"Miron, is that you?" Asked his mother from the corridor.
"Er, yeah." Gave Miron on edge while searching feverishly for an eye patch to cover his new eye.
"It's very early. I hope you have no trouble sleeping?" As his mother stepped in he found an eye patch, quickly put it on and force a grin as he faced her.
"No, what are you doing so early?"
"When you get older you won't need so much sleep as before." She smiled warmly. "Did you sleep with your eye patch again?" She gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"I guess so." He headed out back to his room and closed the door. Quickly he paced over to the wardrobe, opened the door to the small mirror there. He removed the eye patch and opened the eye. "How is this possible?" He wondered stunned as he noticed being able to see better than before with one eye.
Suddenly he noticed a flicker of red glow within him for a brief moment. Soon followed a strange stinging sensation from his palms. He looks down, they are wet and oozing blood from the pores, just like in the nightmare. Before he could react the blood gathered together and formed to long red thin strings.
He gasped and stepped back. Miron's hands began to tremble and the strings danced in his quake. "How-? What?"
"Miron? Are you alright?" Asked his mother and heard her shuffling towards his door.
Quick-witted Miron sprinted for the window, climbed out and up to the roof. "Miron?" He heard her behind him but he kept running to the other side of the roof.
Suddenly a tile slipped out and Miron slid at a greater speed to the edge. Without thinking he held out his arms to protect, closed his eyes and expected to feel the lightness of falling as he did many years before in the accident and lost his right eye.
Instead, one arm reached for the rim of the roof and heard the air whistle at his ears. Soon he felt cold soft grass beneath his feet. Miron opened his eyes and found himself facing the backyard. Quickly he held up his hands, there were no traces of blood. Somehow the "blood-strings" must have brought him down safely.
"Miron?" Cut in his mother's voice from behind.
"I just need some fresh air. I'll be back soon." Gave Miron without facing her and raced off barefoot into the cold snow and crisp air in t-shirt and trainers. He heard his mother calling after him but he was already far away. Miron ran as far his legs could carry him into the forest. He halted at a tree to catch his breath and soon looked at his hands. No blood, nothing out of ordinary.
He looked up as a flock of ravens flew and cawed from the trees above.
"A bit unusual attire to wear in winter." Remarked a man's voice.
Miron faced to where the source of the voice came from. There stood a tall slim man with a smirk and had his long golden-brown hair tied to a loose braid. A shudder went through Miron as their eyes met, his were sapphire blue with sliced pupils.
"Ah, what a unique eye you have pojke."
"The same could be said of yours." Remarked Miron cautious and glared.
"Well, I am not what I seem at first sight. And with you the same, I presume?" He started to walk leisurely around Miron from a certain distance. "But what has me vexed is what brought me here to you, was it the unique scent or Odin's hand of fate?"
Miron remained silent and kept his eye on the stranger.
The man chuckled. "You're very talkative. Then allow me to introduce myself." He bows as if standing in centre stage. "I am Sigert." Their glances met yet Miron kept glaring at Sigert. "Very well, I shall come directly to the point. I sense in you an ancient dark power awaken in you or better said a curse. I'm sure it happens now because your grandfather recently passed away."
Miron gasped sharply.
"It's a family's curse and a dark secret. Your grandfather bid me find you and give you this." Sigert pulls out from his dark tweed coat an old worn leather-bound book and threw over to Miron. Miron caught it secure in his hands. After inspecting it carefully he recognizes seeing the book in grandfather's hands a few times. "His diary should explain everything. My condolences of your loss and take care." He walked away with a gesture of his hand.
"Hold it!" Called Miron.
"Ah, so you do have a voice, pojke." Sigert faced him.
"How did you know him?" Asked Miron.
"The diary will tell but I see the family connection. You have the same courage and strength like Valentyn did." Sigert chuckled. "Read the diary and then meet me here again at breaking dawn, hejda." He walked away.
Miron stared after Sigert for a long time until he noticed his body shivering from the cold and his feet stinging from the snow. Quickly he ran back, got in through the backyard door and sneaked his way up to his room. He slumped onto his bed and started reading his grandfather's diary...
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