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Xyla’s Eye

“There is no doubt our world is filled with mysterious things. Do you ever wonder why they are kept secret? Maybe it’s because greedy humans do not deserve to know and have such things. We all know by now that the human race can never respect such things as they have shown with the destruction of Earth.”

I wrote this story for the following prompts.
Sadje’s What Do You See – Image credit; Egor Vikherv @ Unsplash
Ragtag Daily prompt – Fizzy
Fandango’s One Word Challenge — Meddlesome

Xyla’s Eye

She gulped the lemonade too fast. The fizzy bubbles burned in her nose. Yet there was no time to waste, he was already here.

Xyla sucked in a deep breath and ran from the fast-food restaurant. Heavy rain soaked her titian-blonde hair and forest-green dress in moments.

Headlights blinded her as she darted between vehicles, leapt the car park barrier and stumbled into the road …

A car horn blared.

She glanced off the bonnet, splashed through a puddle and regained the safety of the far path.

Xyla gripped her heaving chest as a pulse hammered like a group of drummers in her ears. ‘That was too close! I hate this city,’ she turned into an alley desperate to find a way back to the woods.

Piles of festering rubbish here symbolised the world as a whole, she realised with tears in her emerald eyes.

“Now, I got you!”

Xyla shrieked as a hand wearing fingerless leather gloves, seized her dress. She kicked hard and tore free as her boot connected with the solid flesh of a muscular abdomen. The impact sent her sprawling, but she rolled through pools of water and ran again.

“Come here!” the towering man thundered in pursuit.

Xyla was smaller and tiring. She felt him latch on to her plaited pigtails and cowered as he swung her into a wall.

He seized her trembling shoulders and pinned her. “Where is the eye, Xyla?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She folded her arms in defiance, knowing she couldn’t break free this time.  

The towering man oozed evil from his studded jacket marked with demonic symbols. His muscular frame caused the leather to bulge in a fearsome display of power. “Don’t lie to me, girl! I know who you are.”

“You know nothing.”

“Really?” the man grabbed at her dress, tearing the material across her toned abdomen. “What about that?”

Xyla knew he’d revealed the tattoo of an eye of white and green adorned with vines over her liver. “So, what? My family give all their children tattoos as kids.”

“Last chance. My name is Tamas – I’m called darkness for a reason. Now, give me the eye before things turn ugly!”

“Too late for that,” Xyla clenched her fists and focused. A lightning flash of green crossed her irises. “You’ll just have to kill —”

Tamas swung a hand at her face.

Xyla closed her eyes anticipating the blow, yet it was the brute who roared in pain.

With an avian shriek, a magnificent bird dug her immense talons into the arm of his jacket, tearing his flesh. The bird flicked her forked tale and engaged her wings of black to brown feathers as she lunged away, raking his face with her beak.

Xyla beamed at the black kite, as she unleashed an emasculating kick and burst free of her captor.

Tamas groaned and collapsed to his knees, “Argh, you meddlesome witch! You’ll pay for that!” he yelled in agony.  

“Thank you, Maya,” Xyla called as she dashed from the alley with the majestic bird shadowing her from above.

It wasn’t long before the menacing burble of a motorbike bore down upon her.

Tamas was back.

Xyla ignored him, she was close to freedom. Lowering her head against the hammering rain, she sprinted for the forest.

The superbike revved as its rider spotted his prey. He reached to grab her

“Argh!” Xyla somersaulted beneath his arm as the bike roared past. Heavy with water, her ragged dress caught in a bramble and tore. Xyla touched the spiky plant and it released her like a friend.

Tamas swerved and spun his bike to pursue.

“You’re too late!” she leapt between an oak and a silver birch and entered the marbled green world of the forest.

Xyla felt her boots vanish as her bare feet landed in the loamy, leaf litter. She ran on between rhododendron blooms and holly bushes.

Tamas abandoned his bike and charged after her. He was so close, he wasn’t losing out this time.

The remains of Xyla’s dress fell away, but she didn’t care she was almost home.

Tamas lunged for her, missed and screamed.

Maya the Kite slashed his face with a raking swipe of her talons. He slammed into the sodden ground. It was there he had his last glimpse of Xyla.

Vines of ivy twisted themselves about her lithe body forming a stunning armour. Xyla darted behind an oak tree and vanished from his sight.

She came upon a wall of spruce trees. The closest green with moss and adorned with an eye of white. Xyla caressed the spot for a moment.

The tree shuddered from her touch. It and the neighbouring tree shifted revealing a hidden passage between them.

“Thank you,” Xyla felt Maya land on her shoulder and stepped inside.

She entered a meadow of pure white flowers. Surrounding one single, magnificent white oak tree. Its limbs seemed to glow white with magic.

“Welcome home, little elf. Did you succeed?” said a tall female with the same titian blonde tresses. She had on a moss-green cloak and was feeding a baby squirrel as she watched her daughter approach.

“I did, Mother. I met Tamas too.” Xyla revealed an ivy leaf pendant.

“Such an ugly fungus, that one.” The mother beckoned. “You did well, come on.”

Xyla followed her to the white oak. At their touch, the trunk opened revealing a shimmering green veil. The elves stepped inside and were gone.

A kestrel above the woods marvelled at the grand oak surrounded by white flowers below him. He saw it as a large eye and nodded as it winked and vanished.

The End


Thanks for reading my friends.

There’s more in the Poetry CornerPoetry Nook, and the Short Story Collection

Have a great day!

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26 thoughts on “Xyla’s Eye

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      1. Oh it does, I love to walk and sit within the woods and fields to spend time with the birds and wildlife in general. Nothing is more special than being feet away from a wild deer, or a hearing the buzzard playing on the wing. The woodpecker hammering into his tree. Just magic?

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