Chapter One.

When born, he was blind. When One, he was blind. When Two, he was to be forever blind. When Three, his parents were weird to each other. When Four, he discovered the woods. When Five, his parents began the arguing.

It was the same crackly and dusty morning as usual for Feegra. He sat up in his bed. Darkness greeting him from his own in sleep. His gray eyes focused on nothing as he imagined his room. Pushing his small body over to the left side of his bed, he set his feet on the wooden floor with a soft thud. He liked that noise. Feeling the dusty, grainy, and hard surface of the floor he stood up. Feeling the board giving in just oh so slightly. As he walked he found his hands amused with his hair. His mother told him it was black. And of course he didn't know what this color was. So she told him it was the darkness he sees. He never really thought of it as darkness. He didn't know what it was really. But it made sense to him luckily. Because he thought of darkness as cold.

Stopping in the hallway leading to the kitchen where his mother would be, he turned to the window on the right and felt a blast of warm sunshine streaming in through the smooth glass panels. He smiled. He knew it made sense because light was warmth. Tiny pale hands still fiddling with his hair, he continued to creak and crack his way down the hall. Feeling each individual board of wood, each speck of dirt, each motion his body and weight forced upon it as it swooned with him.

Stopping in the doorway he let his nose direct him. It smelled like bacon and pancakes. Syrup was there too! His face lit up in delight. "Good Morning Momma!" His voice as tiny as he, drifted to his mother. And the day took its usual course.

Feegra lived in a small wooden cottage that always smelled like wood. Not just one kind, but all kinds. In the 'backyard' was a massive forest. Saw dust was even still in the air even though he was told this home was ancient. His home was also far away from other people. He was home schooled and never taken anywhere except to the grocery store at night when no one was really there. It was weird there. He thought it was dark there because of the cold feeling it gave him. And all the shelves scared him too. He could just feel their own weight alone threatening to slip from the hold they had and crash.

He only met three kids there like him. One girl and Two boys. Of course, the parents took them away as soon as he asked to feel their face. He never really had any other way of imagining their looks. He found it odd he could always tell their size by the floor, no matter how it was, but he couldn't tell their features. The world was strange he decided.

Well, breakfast was done. His every day lesson was done. Now he just had to wait for Father to get back from work. Feegra hoped he was in a good mood. He'd like to say "He just knew he was in a good mood." But he was a... what was it that his mother said... Ah yes, a very ill-tempered man. And sadly it was the same today.

He was sitting on the floral, rough couch in the front living room. A small space that didn't even have a TV, as he heard from the people in the grocery store. He was told it was a machine that was a box and showed pictures and put out sounds. The only thing in here was antique bookcases and so many books for them. Not to mention a bunch of stony figurines that were in the shape of monsters and gargoyles that held them together so they wouldn't destroy the room.

His ears perked at the sound of a jingle. Keys. He heard the locks click, the door swing open with crackled, and the big heavy foot steps of his Father. "Honey... Why is Feegra outside of his room?" Feegra didn't like the heavy vibration in his voice. It was angry as it carried out through the room. "Mike, he's just in the living room what harm is it going to do?"

"I told you I have clients coming over today for business."
"What and a blind child is going to disgust them?"
"I don't want him in here."
"Oh, and your word is law?!"

His mother's shrill voice rose and fell in her own variety of anger. His father's staying the same tone but he could feel it rising and worsening in it's ways. He sat on the couch, head tilting to either side. His brows furrowed down and his stomach churned. He hated this.

"He's going to ruin everything!"
"By being a cute little kid? Oh nice Mi-"
"Amara you know what I mean!"
"DO I!?"

Words were tossed back and forth. He clamped his hands over his ears but the angry vibration still hit him. He just wanted to go away from all this, it made him so sad and angry. Suddenly he felt his father's rough and calloused hands grab his arm. He yelped as he was yanked up.

"YOU PUT THAT CHILD DOWN RIGHT NOW!"
"He is supposed to be in his ROOM!"

With a scream he was wrenched free of his father's grasp and cuddled into the soft skirts of his mother's dress as her stick thin arms held him in safety. He could feel his breath quickening.

"Give him to me."
"No."
"Amara..."
"Mike, don't you dare use that tone with me. You are my HUSBAND and I am not your SLAVE."

Soon they were caught up in each other again, flinging insults and accusations. His mother wasn't paying attention. Tears were forming in his eyes and he was gasping for breath. He didn't understand any of this! Why was this happening!?

And so he ran. Out the Living Room. Through the Hallway. Out the backdoor. And into the woods.

Author's Note

Will fix grammar issues later.