As a girl she had discovered, in the woods not far from home, a flower with an eye, an actual eye, the same color as her sister's eyes, green with a little grey. She bent to look at it and in seemed to regard her. It blinked. She talked to it, but it didn't seem to hear, though it watched her intently. She had gone back to the place several times to visit it over the next year, until her father had been transferred to work in a city halfway across the country. She never told anyone about it, and never experienced anything else so extraordinary in her life.
Now, years later, she was parked at the edge of the woods. As a rational adult, she was puzzled by the memory. Funny how she had just accepted it. Funny how she had gone for long periods of time without thinking about it, only to remember it again once in a while, wondering what it was, how it came to be there, if it were there still.
As she approached the place, the woods having changed surprisingly little over the years, she stopped suddenly at the sound of a little voice. She ducked behind a tree and glanced around to see a young girl crouched, talking to something in front of her. She couldn't make out the words. She wondered who the girl was, what her life was like. She watched her for several minutes before turning back toward her car.
She never went back there again.