The first 3 chapter of Retina Blue:
What if your life had a blueprint? What if that blueprint was a map you had created for your own existence? There are, of course, many what ifs…. What if your life was coordinated by a behind-the-scenes intelligence? What would happen if someone disturbed the natural course of time because they had willingly defied death?
Discover Retina Blue….
This book shall not be lent, resold or hired out by way of trade or otherwise without the author’s consent. All rights remain with the author: Michelle Dry
Published by Michelle Dry
Live life to the full. Relish every experience.
Thank you for inspiration.
When an eye shows clarity and light, a connection to the soul is revealed.
When an eye is devoid of the celestial blueprint, the soul is lost…
it becomes Retina Blue
The moment of awakening came from the most unexpected source, at the most inconvenient time. It plunged a person’s life into complete disarray – that was how it was supposed to be.
Olivia squinted in pain, rays of light shone directly into her eyes from the window. Her apartment looked bleary. She lifted her face from the floor and peeled some sketches from her cheek. Instinctively she checked the back of her head for blood. Nothing. Her black, curled hair was matted but there was no wound. Through the blur, something darted across the room. She froze. An androgynous figure wearing black was moving closer.
Inhaling hard, she shook her head. What the..?
The silence bristled.
A dark shape in the intruder’s hand caught her attention. ‘It’ intended to kill her.
“When you’re good and ready we will talk,” it said.
Its voice was deep and confident – mysterious. “That’s once you stop bloody fidgeting!”
Olivia stared. It did not return the glance, instead its eyes, behind dark glasses, remained fixed on an ornate, shimmering hourglass. It appeared to be counting something down.
“What have I done? Who are you? Who sent you?”
“Shhh! I’m waiting,” said the figure.
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting for the precise moment.”
In the exhibition hall of an exclusive art gallery, a plump, fuming, fifty-something art agent paced up and down muttering under his breath. As he loosened his tie, his shifty eyes darted about in agitation. Hunching his shoulders, he grew increasingly rigid.
“That girl’s always late! It’s her last bloody chance!”
He scraped his chubby fingers over his balding head.
“Complete and utter disrespect! What does she think I am?”
He paused by a white framed window and stared out. For a moment, he just shook his head and checked his watch. I’m sick of it! If she doesn’t get here soon, I’ll have her bloody killed, that way her work might be worth something!
The agent’s face grew increasingly crimson, “This is her last bloody chance!” he spat.
In a luxurious hotel, overlooking Bournemouth’s sandy beaches, Max laid on his king-size bed, smiling at the naked woman before him. He admired her curves as he traced his finger across her tanned, lean stomach. She smiled a coy smile, removed his hand from her hip, and slipped on her black, satin dress. “Time for me to go,” she said.
He sighed, “You don’t really have to go, do you?”
“You know I do.”
She gazed at him, bent over and kissed him on the forehead. Max gazed at her breasts and then into her eyes. She shook her head, turned, and glanced over her shoulder as she walked towards the door.
He watched the elegant woman leave the room and adjusted himself. He would never see her again.
“Damn, I have to call Olivia!”
Max yawned, rolled over and reached for his mobile. He resented having to call Olivia. She had an exhibition looming and would be at her wits end. Did he really need to deal with all that stress? He huffed; what he put himself through just to be with her was ridiculous. Max smiled wryly; he had his reasons and it was nearly time.
At that precise moment, a ragged, jaded old woman with a plume of matted, white hair clung to a trolley as it careered down a steep hill. She laughed hysterically to herself whilst muttering to the three dolls perched on the wire mesh. Each doll was dressed as an angel and gazed into the distance with crooked doll eyes. Onlookers gazed at the eccentric old woman.
“You haven’t seen me, you’ll forget… I forgot… so will you.”
The time had come. She had been called. She had a role to play; she just wished she knew the source of the knowledge.
Olivia pulled her knees into her chest and sat with her back against the white wall. Whenever she moved, she winced. Had she been beaten? Drugged?
“What do you want from me?” she asked again.
The intruder made a sideways glance, “I don’t want anything from you in particular.”
“Look – stop playing games. I know you’re here to…” Olivia gestured at the dark shape.
It waved the object like a toy. “Oh this… No, you have it all wrong. It’s not so much that I’m here to kill you – it’s a mere warning. There are powers at work of which you have no understanding. And it’s far better you know of such things now, before you make any discoveries.”
Olivia gazed suspiciously at the person before her: had someone sent it? Chewing her lip, she frowned. Why warn an artist trying to make a comeback? Olivia glanced at the door. Could she get past?
“I know what you’re thinking and I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” it said.
Max grabbed a white towel from the rack and admired his perfectly sculpted physique in the mirror. He spent hours at the gym pounding the machines for that very reason; he was attractive and knew it. He could have anyone, but he had become ‘stuck’ with Olivia. She was the deal, and he was attached to her until the exhibition was complete.
He glanced at his mobile and huffed; he had to call her. Reluctantly he dialled and waited. After three rings, Olivia’s answering machine clicked on.
“Good morning, darling. I hope everything is okay with the exhibition. I wish I could be there to support you but you know how these conferences go. Work, work, work! Anyway, good luck with the hanging – you know it will look fantastic. Anyway lo…ve you and see you when I get back.”
He checked his watch seven-thirty am and frowned. He called her mobile. No answer.
“Where are you Olivia? You hardly sleep so what are you doing? Get that bloody work up and get me my money!”
The answerphone beeped. Olivia listened to the message and glanced at the intruder; it stood with its arms folded shaking its head. “Don’t trust him. His tone reveals he’s a liar.”
Olivia ignored the comment as she grappled to sit upright. “You know what? I don’t get this… What are you doing here? What do you want from me? If it’s money…”
“Why does it always have to be about money? Do I look as though I have the slightest interest in shiny pieces of metal?”
What did that mean? “Then…?”
“As I said… I’m waiting.” The person in black paused and glanced out of the window and back to the hourglass in front of it.
“Are you some kind of weird stalker of ex-child prodigies?” asked Olivia.
“God, no!” The intruder leant against the wall and sighed. “Do you understand the concept of timing?”
“In relation to what?” asked Olivia glancing at the door.
“Don’t bother thinking about escape. There isn’t time… And the timing is in relation to the universe,” it responded.
What did it mean? How could she get out? She squinted and touched the back of her head. It was still painful. Olivia frowned; the intruder was real, wasn’t it?
The art agent clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “She’s done it again! How many times do I have to endure this behaviour?”
Richard, the agent, attacked his mobile phone and pressed re-dial.
“She’d better be on her way! Or… or I’ll…” he muttered. Unconsciously he stamped on the black and white patterned marble floor of the gallery. The phone rang.
“This is Olivia, please leave a message,” said the answering machine clicking on.
“Where the bloody hell are you? Get your pathetic arse over here now! I will not take this shit anymore! You will get here and put this exhibition together or we both lose everything!” he yelled. When he was finished, he snapped the phone shut. Smack! It collided with the floor. The agent loosened his collar; beads of sweat caressed his forehead and dribbled down his nose. Clasping his chest, he groaned and swayed.
Olivia’s instinctive response was to recoil while the verbal darts flew from the answer machine.
The intruder appeared entertained by her response.
Smiling, the intruder watched the last few golden grains trickle through the timer.
“That’s it, my timing’s done,” it said calmly.
“No! What? You held me at gunpoint so my bloody arsehole of an agent could have a go at me? What kind of weirdo are you?” she demanded.
The intruder turned its back on her and shook the hourglass.
“Yep, the timing is perfect. Time to go. We did well. Er… Thank you.”
She flushed red. “Wait! What are you and who are you working for? Why did you do this?”
With its back to her, the intruder removed its dark glasses. For a moment, it paused and blinked a couple of times.
Olivia recoiled, “What the…?” She dug her fingers into the carpet and jammed her feet into the floor. Her instinct was to escape but all she could manage was to shake her head.
“I work for someone higher. I am known as the Connector and the timing is falling out,” it said casually. “It’s all got a bit chaotic, usually I wouldn’t take such measures…”
The Connector’s thin lips curled. “Believe what you wish.”
Olivia shifted to kneeling. “What on earth are you?” asked Olivia, tears trickling down her cheeks.
The Connector waited, it expected the inevitable.
Urgently, she grabbed her stomach and suppressed a wave of nausea. Goosebumps prickled all over her body.
It glanced back at the hourglass, “I have overstayed my ‘time’ and witnessing my eyes will help you in the future – we will meet again.”
“But I don’t want to meet again!”
“The conscious choice is not yours and it will be a much nicer experience next time. I won’t bring the weapon.”
Olivia hugged herself; the Connector’s eyes were large and clear. They were so beautiful, so turquoise. Yet there was something missing.
The Connector gestured, “By seeing my eyes you will know what you are looking for – what is extra in you and what I am missing. You are now on a search for Retina Blue: it will be the genius behind your work. Think of it as a divine gift.”
It paused and gazed into her eyes, “You are very lucky – if luck exists,” it smirked.
“Retina Blue? What on earth does that mean?” she asked in a dazed tone.
“I said our time is up! The rest is up to you.” The Connector turned towards the window, paused for a second and glanced back.
“Olivia, consider the people you have in your life. A lot of them are arseholes. Time to clear them out! Transformation is coming!” It grinned, waved, ran and then jumped.
Olivia scrambled urgently to standing and sprinted towards the window. Her glance navigated one hundred and eighty degrees. Nothing. It had disappeared… How was that possible?
The space between the ground and the window was empty. There was no evidence and nowhere for it to go. Nothing. The only other visible living entity was a squawking raven perched on a chimney of the apartment block across the street.
“Go to routine Olivia,” she whispered.
The old woman glanced at her watch; she had two miles to walk to the designated position. She felt tired and weary, just old. Admittedly, there were other ways to travel, it was just she should not influence anything and definitely not talk to anyone. “This one will be perfect,” she croaked.
Olivia was late, “This is so strange. Why would that happen?” She took a seat at her large, mahogany desk and pulled her sketchbook from a drawer. Click. The lead in her pencil was ready. What was it? Connector, time frame, eyes and Retina Blue, she scribbled. There was no obvious connection.
Leaning back in her chair, Olivia gazed into space. Her head swooned. The image of the being’s eyes haunted her. Carefully she drew the Connector’s eye. Were they green or turquoise? Clear? Was there a pattern or was it missing a pattern? With a loud sigh she rested her head in her hands, she felt exhausted, ill, weak and insane.
“Where’s Max when I need him? I need his rationale,” she muttered.
It was too much – too weird! Olivia took a deep breath; it had not intended to kill her. It? Was ‘it’ mutated or some kind of clone?
Olivia paused mid-sketch; its eyes weren’t human. What does that mean? She chewed her pencil and attempted to retrace the previous events. What had happened before she woke up? When had she been beaten? Why couldn’t she remember? Olivia pinched herself out of courtesy. She had done that many times as a child. Yes, she had experienced visions before. Usually stress triggered them. Nevertheless, they were just kid’s visions – they happened with over-active imaginations.
Olivia rested her head in her hands; it was happening again, the creativity was taking over. When she was young, she would get so involved in her inner landscape that she could get stuck. Hours and hours of daydreaming enabled her to travel through ornate mental labyrinths, the source of her inspiration. Of course, she never told people where she got the images, they would never understand and she certainly could not show them. Olivia huffed, it was there again, the events that took place when she was thirteen. That was when the labyrinth had become the place to escape and hide. The door was opening and it was calling her. If she went in again she feared she would never return. She had almost died there once and she did not intend to allow that to happen again.
Something sparkled from amongst the shag pile. Olivia dashed over, picked up the tiny ornament and stared at it. “It’s empty – but it’s real.”
Within a second, the ornament shattered and disintegrated in her hand. A glittery substance remained.