DWP - "The blind (wo)man said to me..."

The blind woman says to me as I stare at her in awe, "Yes, look at me, look at my eyes. Disgusting, aren't they?"

"No," I whisper. She is perfect: the perfectly oval face, framed by the perfectly white curly hair, the perfect nose, the perfectly full red lips. Even her eyes are in complete symmetry to the shape of her face, only they're totally white. She is like an unfinished drawing and the artist forgot to draw the iris. She looks like a white statue. But she isn't. She can talk and she can move. "No," I repeat, a little louder this time.

She turns her face towards the window and for a moment I imagine she was looking at the bright full moon that has risen above the shadows of the distant valley. She smiles.

"Twenty-four hours in this house," she continues, "twenty-four hours will do this to you. There is stil time for you to escape this curse."

"But I come to help. To help you and the others."

"No, you cannot help us anymore."

Tears roll down her cheeks.

"Can you see the door?" she asks.

I turn towards the doorway, it is open, and the wonderful scents of kalachuchi and ylang-ylang waft inside.

"Yes," I reply.

"Then leave. Now. For if you don't, that door will close and you shall never leave. Your eyes will become white. And you shall never see again."

She cups her ivory face in her pale hands and her shoulders tremble.