I updated a short story I wrote called The Sixth and read it at the Geneva Writers’ Group End of Year celebrations at the Press Centre. The original piece was written as a Christmas present for a friend called Indigo. Here’s the beginning of the story:
Her eyes stared off into the distance, blank and unseeing. What a shame, he thought; such an attractive young girl yet afflicted that way. One of her auburn curls repeatedly fell in front of her eyes. Each time she’d tuck it behind her ear, no irritation in her movements, just care and attention. When she’d entered his workshop he hadn’t at first noticed she was blind. He’d been busy working on his latest canvas, putting the ultimate touches to the sky. He’d promised himself he’d complete it that day and, true to form, he’d done so… (read on)