Gone Native
Gone Native burns living flowers stories

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short story by phoenixpixie23 posted on commaful. see the rest: https://archiveofourown.o...

Gone Native

The flashlights momentarily blinded me, my eyes reflecting the light, betraying my identity. So now they knew. I had been fooling them for years, but the gig had to end sometime.

I had desperately hoped to remain undiscovered for a bit longer. A lot longer. Forever would have been nice. It was too late for that now.

I was running as fast as I could, my purpose so intense that I was beyond words.

Seemingly ordinary images and memories flashed through my head. Fire. A college campus. Orange aprons. Pearl Street. A snowy mountain road. A mansion on a cliff. A hidden cabin in the mountains.

The bang of a gun. A bookstore. A secret room. Cold concrete walls. A Christmas tree. A purple teddy bear. A pink dress. A home-cooked meal. A beat-up old truck. An old white farmhouse.

Endless fields of corn and wheat. A swingset. A sunset. A sketchbook. A faithful dog. A warning song. A pair of old boots. A bit of white lace. A soft pink blanket.

Florescent lights in a healing facility. The dark stank of a jail. Pouring rain. Tears of joy. Tears of pain. Tears of loss. And faces. So many faces.

Every age, every color, with one thing in common: they all had clear eyes. Human eyes.

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