My Doomsday Visitor...

I have seen her twice before, two unfortunate times. She first appeared to me on my sixteenth birthday; a fair beauty whose golden eyes seemed to see into my soul. She had neither spoken nor stayed long. She simply put her hand to her neck to reveal a deep bleeding cut, then she had gone, just like that. That month papa had died, from neck wounds inflicted in a gang riot. I was unsure at the time if all of it was a dream or not, or if I really saw his death through her. Then she had appeared again years later on my twenty-fourth birthday, this time as well a brief visit. And when two weeks later mama was diagnosed with cancer I became certain. The image of those hands pulling off white fickle hair, while those golden eyes stared through me kept me up for days, and I didn't shed a single tear when mama finally died, I had cried my eyes out weeks before. That was seven years ago, and I had begun to forget about my doomsday visitor, until last night. She looked more like a ghost this time, with golden eyes replaced by blank white sockets, but I could never forget that face. She pointed this time to her blank eyes, and then she was gone. Now I lay in fear for what beckons, I can only hope it means I would see her no more...

#SladenSpeaks

Written for @vermillionfox's Foxtales Contest