Blind Sight On The Shore

By Stephen Colyn

She sees everything. But no one sees her coming.

Chloe navigates the vibrant, sun-drenched streets of Jamaica with a delicate grace, her unfocused eyes a testament to her apparent blindness. When Jimmy, a desperate con artist on the run, spots her on a secluded beach, he sees an easy mark, a vulnerable target for his next score. He approaches with a practiced charm, unaware that Chloe is anything but helpless. She's bold, brilliant, and has been tracking his every move, her senses honed to an almost supernatural degree. Jimmy's predatory intentions—to rob, to violate, to silence—are laid bare to Chloe, who has long mastered the art of seeing without sight.

But Jimmy isn't just a petty criminal; he's a pawn in a far deadlier game. Chloe, a legendary figure known only as 'The Oracle' in the global underworld, has been living a meticulously crafted lie. Her "blindness" is her ultimate camouflage, a shield that allows her to move unseen through the shadows. The underworld, her former life, has tasked her with a critical mission: to neutralize a ghost, a master con artist who has outsmarted everyone. Jimmy, it turns out, is the key to a truth far more devastating than Chloe could have imagined—a truth that links him to her own past, to the brother she thought was lost forever, and to the very forces that shaped her into The Oracle.

As Chloe delves deeper, she uncovers a global conspiracy orchestrated by 'The Architect,' an unseen puppet master pulling strings from the deepest shadows. This new enemy is not just seeking power; they aim to dismantle reality itself, to reshape human consciousness, and they see Chloe as their ultimate instrument. Now, caught between a fractured underworld, a relentless pursuit of vengeance, and a shocking hidden identity that shatters her understanding of family, Chloe must confront the ultimate betrayal.

In this gripping psychological thriller, the stakes are higher than ever. Chloe must use every ounce of her cunning, her extraordinary abilities, and her unwavering resolve to expose The Architect's insidious plan, protect the innocent, and fight for humanity's very soul. But to win, she must face a heartbreaking truth that will push her to the brink and redefine what it means to truly see.

Dive into a world where perception is the deadliest weapon, and the blind girl on the shore holds the key to the world's unraveling. Can The Oracle save a world that refuses to see?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Colyn
• Release date: Aug 7, 2025
• ISBN: 9798230368069

Book preview

Prologue

The Shadow's Whisper

The world, for most, was a tapestry woven from light and shadow, a symphony of visible hues and audible echoes. They navigated by what their eyes perceived, by the tangible contours of reality. But for some, for those who truly understood the deeper currents, reality was a far more intricate and treacherous construct. It was a place where the unseen held more power than the seen, where silence spoke volumes, and where the greatest truths were often cloaked in the most elaborate deceptions.

Long before the Jamaican sun had kissed the shores of Kingston, before the rhythm of reggae had pulsed through its streets, and before the scent of jerk chicken had mingled with the salt of the sea, there existed a different kind of world. A world woven from whispers and secrets, from silent pacts and unseen betrayals. It was a world that operated beneath the veneer of normalcy, a dark mirror reflecting humanity's deepest desires and its most profound fears. And in this world, sight was not a gift, but a liability.

She remembered the feel of the cool, damp earth beneath her bare feet, the subtle vibration of unseen life stirring beneath the surface. She remembered the symphony of the jungle at dusk, a chorus of unseen creatures, each sound a clue, a story, a warning. She remembered the taste of the salt on the wind, carrying with it the scent of distant storms and unspoken promises. Her senses, even then, were her compass, her guide, her window into a reality that others, with their eyes wide open, often missed.

The whispers began subtly, like the first rustle of leaves before a hurricane. They spoke of a new order, a reshaping of the global landscape, a dismantling of old powers and the rise of new ones. They spoke of architects and puppet masters, of unseen hands pulling strings, orchestrating chaos from the deepest shadows. And they spoke of a prophecy, a legend, a force that would either bring about a new dawn or plunge the world into eternal night.

She was a part of this world, not by choice, but by circumstance. A child of the shadows, shaped by forces she barely understood, destined to become something more, something terrifyingly powerful. Her eyes, open and seemingly vacant, were her greatest camouflage, her most potent weapon. For in a world that judged by appearances, a blind girl was harmless. Invisible. Easily dismissed. But invisibility, she learned, was the ultimate power. It allowed her to listen when others spoke freely, to observe when others dropped their guard, to see the unseen truths that lay hidden beneath the surface of reality.

The path she walked was paved with fragments of a forgotten past, with echoes of a family she barely remembered, and with the chilling promise of a destiny she could not escape. She was a ghost, moving through a world of phantoms, her purpose shrouded in mystery, her loyalties ambiguous. She was a weapon, honed and precise, a tool in a game she had yet to fully comprehend.

But even a ghost carried a heart, a soul that yearned for something more than shadows, something more than deception. A heart that remembered the warmth of a simple touch, the comfort of a shared laugh, the profound ache of a love lost. And it was this heart, this fragile ember of humanity, that would ultimately guide her through the darkness, that would allow her to see the truth, even when it was hidden behind the most elaborate illusions.

The shore awaited, its waves whispering secrets of betrayal and redemption. And on that shore, a girl, seemingly blind, would sit, her senses extended, listening to the unseen currents of a world on the brink. She would be the key, the Oracle, the one who saw everything. And her journey, a relentless pursuit of truth in a world of lies, was about to begin. The game had already started. The first move had been made. And the blind girl on the shore was ready to play.

Chapter 1

The Unseen Predator

The sun, a molten orb in the cerulean Jamaican sky, beat down on the bustling streets of Kingston, painting everything in shades of vibrant heat. The air thrummed with the rhythm of reggae, the scent of jerk chicken, and the murmur of a thousand conversations. It was a symphony of chaos and charm, a place where secrets could simmer beneath the surface, unnoticed by the casual eye. But Jimmy wasn't casual. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, were fixed on a figure moving with an almost ethereal grace through the crowd.

Her name, he would soon learn, was Chloe. She moved with a delicate sway, her long, dark braids catching the sunlight like spun obsidian. Her dress, a simple linen shift, flowed around her, hinting at the slender elegance beneath. Jimmy, a man whose life had been a meticulously crafted tapestry of cons and evasions, recognised beauty when he saw it. But more than beauty, he recognised vulnerability. He saw it in the slight hesitation before she stepped off a curb, the almost imperceptible tilt of her head as if listening to something beyond the street noise, the way her hand instinctively reached for the worn leather strap of her small, cross-body bag. He saw a target.

Jimmy was a ghost in this vibrant landscape, a man without roots, his past a series of blurred lines and forgotten aliases. He’d landed in Jamaica two weeks ago, a step ahead of a particularly nasty deal gone sour in Miami. The island was supposed to be a temporary haven, a place to lie low, regroup, and plan his next move. But the heat, both literal and figurative, had been relentless. His funds were dwindling, and the anonymous, sun-drenched streets were starting to feel less like a refuge and more like a cage. He needed a score, something quick and clean, to get him back on his feet. And Chloe, with her quiet elegance and apparent solitude, seemed to be the answer to his prayers.

He fell into step behind her, a shadow among the vibrant hues. He was good at this, a master of blending, of becoming just another face in the crowd. His movements were fluid, his gaze unwavering but discreet. He watched her navigate the uneven pavement, the occasional jostle from passers-by. He noted the way she paused at a fruit stall, her fingers brushing lightly over a mango before she moved on. There was a peculiar stillness about her, a focused intensity that intrigued him. He expected her to glance back, to sense his presence, but she never did. A flicker of doubt, brief and quickly dismissed, touched him. Was she too engrossed in her own world, or was there something else?

The thought vanished as she turned down a quieter side street, leading away from the main thoroughfare. This was perfect. Less traffic, fewer witnesses. His heart quickened, a familiar thrill igniting in his veins. The hunt. It was always the best part. He imagined the feel of her bag in his hand, the satisfying weight of whatever cash or valuables it might contain. He considered the possibility of more, a deeper exploitation, a fleeting moment of power over another human being. He was a predator, pure and simple, and Chloe, in her unsuspecting beauty, was walking straight into his trap.

As she continued, he noticed something peculiar. Her eyes, though open and seemingly focused, held a distant, almost glassy quality. They didn’t track the movement around her; they simply stared ahead, fixed on an unseen point. A sudden, chilling realisation washed over him, cold despite the tropical heat. He watched her again, more closely this time. Her cane. He hadn’t noticed it before, a slender, white cane folded neatly and tucked into the side of her bag, almost camouflaged by the shadows.

She was blind.

The revelation hit him with the force of a physical blow. His carefully constructed fantasy of an easy mark shattered. A blind girl. The vulnerability he had perceived was real, profound, and utterly unexpected. His initial predatory instinct warred with something else, a flicker of... what? Pity? Discomfort? He wasn’t sure. He’d never targeted someone so overtly helpless. His victims were usually careless tourists, distracted businessmen, or naive locals with more money than sense. This was different.

But then, the old, cold logic asserted itself. Different, yes, but perhaps even easier. Her blindness could be an advantage, a cloak for his intentions. He could approach her, feign concern, offer help. Her lack of sight would make her dependent, trusting. The thrill, momentarily dulled, returned with a darker edge. This wasn't just a robbery now; it was a game of psychological manipulation, a test of his own cunning. He could be her savior, her protector, before he became her destroyer. The thought twisted in his gut, a perverse excitement.

Chloe, meanwhile, continued her measured walk, every step a testament to years of practiced navigation. The rhythm of the street was her guide: the subtle shift in the pavement beneath her worn sandals, the faint echo of her own footsteps against the buildings, the changing currents of air that told her of open spaces or approaching walls. Her ears, finely tuned instruments, picked up the distant rumble of a bus, the chirping of crickets in a nearby bush, the distinct, almost imperceptible shift in the soundscape behind her. A shadow. Not just any shadow, but a persistent one.

She had noticed him almost immediately. Not with her eyes, of course. Not with the eyes that were supposed to be sightless, the eyes she kept carefully unfocused, a perfect mimicry of a world she supposedly couldn't see. No, she noticed him with the acute awareness honed by years of living in a world where every sense was heightened, every nuance a clue. She felt the slight displacement of air as he drew closer, heard the subtle change in the cadence of footsteps behind her – too consistent, too deliberate to be a casual passer-by. She caught the faint, metallic scent of cheap cologne mixed with stale cigarette smoke. And then, the giveaway: the almost imperceptible pause in his breathing when she had paused at the fruit stall, a hunter holding his breath.

Chloe wasn't blind. Not truly. Her vision was perfect, sharper than most, a gift she had learned to weaponise. Her blindness was a meticulously crafted illusion, a shield, and a weapon in itself. It was a disguise she had worn for years, a necessary camouflage in the shadowy world she inhabited. She was Chloe, yes, but she was also 'The Oracle,' a legend whispered in the dark corners of the underworld, a woman whose true power lay in her ability to see what others could not, to anticipate, to manipulate.

She knew his type. He reeked of desperation and opportunism. The way he’d followed her, the subtle shift in his pace when she changed direction, the predatory stillness she sensed. He was looking for a mark, and she, with her carefully cultivated vulnerability, was presenting herself as the perfect one. A flicker of a sardonic smile played on her lips, unseen by him. He thought he was hunting her. He had no idea he was walking into a finely spun web, a trap of her own design.

Her journey was not random. She wasn't just strolling through Kingston. She was on a mission, a delicate dance of information gathering and strategic positioning. The underworld, her former life, had resurfaced with an urgent request. A ghost had emerged, a con artist of extraordinary skill, leaving a trail of chaos and financial ruin across the globe. He was known only by whispers, a phantom who could slip through the tightest security, outwit the sharpest minds. His latest target: a high-level network of illicit operations in the Caribbean, a network she once had deep ties to. This con artist, this Jimmy, was disrupting the delicate balance, threatening to expose too much. The underworld wanted him neutralised. And they wanted Chloe, The Oracle, to do it.

She had taken the assignment with a detached professionalism that belied the turmoil within her. Returning to this life, even for a single mission, was a step back into the shadows she had fought so hard to escape. But some debts, some loyalties, were too deeply ingrained to ignore. And Jimmy, this new predator, had just made himself a direct link to her target. Serendipity, or perhaps, fate.

Chloe continued her walk, her senses absorbing every detail. She knew this part of Kingston intimately. Every crack in the pavement, every vendor's cry, every shift in the sea breeze. She was heading towards a small, secluded stretch of beach, a place where the tourists rarely ventured, a place where she could think, plan, and observe. It was also, conveniently, a place where a desperate man might seek refuge, a quiet corner to escape the relentless sun and the watchful eyes of the city.

Jimmy, still trailing her, felt a surge of relief as she finally veered off the street and onto a narrow, sandy path. The path wound through a cluster of sea-grape trees, their broad leaves offering dappled shade. Beyond them, the turquoise expanse of the Caribbean Sea shimmered, its gentle waves lapping at a pristine stretch of white sand. It was a small, almost private cove, tucked away from the main tourist beaches. Perfect.

He watched as Chloe, with an almost uncanny precision, navigated the path, her feet finding the familiar indentations in the sand. She reached the edge of the water, and with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, she settled onto a large, smooth piece of driftwood, her face turned towards the gentle breeze. She unfolded her white cane and placed it carefully beside her, a silent declaration of her vulnerability.

Jimmy waited, hidden among the trees, observing her. The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery oranges and purples. The beach was deserted. This was his chance. He took a deep breath, composing himself. He needed to appear harmless, concerned, perhaps even charming. He had played this role countless times. The friendly stranger, the helpful Samaritan. It was a mask he wore with practiced ease.

He emerged from the trees, walking slowly, deliberately, his footsteps crunching softly on the sand. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if he were simply enjoying the sunset, a casual passer-by. As he drew closer, he allowed his eyes to drift towards her, a feigned surprise registering on his face.

Excuse me, he said, his voice smooth, laced with a carefully cultivated American accent. I didn't realise anyone else was here. Beautiful sunset, isn't it?

Chloe turned her head slightly, her unfocused eyes seeming to gaze past him, towards the setting sun. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. It is, she replied, her voice soft, melodic, with a subtle Jamaican lilt. Though I suppose I only imagine its colors now.

Her words, delivered with such quiet grace, sent a strange tremor through Jimmy. The direct acknowledgment of her blindness, spoken so matter-of-factly, was disarming. He had expected a more guarded response, perhaps a startled jump. But she was calm, composed. It made him feel a flicker of something akin to shame, quickly suppressed. He was here for a purpose.

He took another step closer, feigning a sympathetic sigh. I'm sorry to hear that, he said, his voice deepening with false sincerity. It truly is breathtaking tonight. The sky is just... ablaze. He paused, allowing the silence to hang between them, a space for her to fill. When she didn't, he continued, I'm Jimmy, by the way. Just arrived on the island. Looking for a quiet spot to clear my head.

Chloe’s smile widened slightly, a hint of something unreadable in her expression. Chloe, she offered, her voice still soft. And this spot is usually quite good for that. Not many people venture down here.

Lucky me, then, Jimmy chuckled, a practiced, easy sound. He took a few more steps, closing the distance, until he was standing a respectful, yet intimate, few feet from her. He could smell the faint scent of coconut oil from her hair, the clean saltiness of the sea on her skin. He felt a surge of perverse desire, a dark hunger that went beyond mere robbery. She was beautiful, even with her vacant gaze. And so utterly vulnerable.

He sat down on the sand a little distance from her, not too close to alarm her, but close enough to engage. So, Chloe, he began, his voice dropping to a more confidential tone. You seem to know this island well. I'm looking for a place to stay, something off the beaten path, away from the tourist traps. Any recommendations?

Chloe turned her head, her unfocused eyes now seemingly directed towards him. Depends on what you're looking for, Jimmy, she said, her voice still calm, but with a subtle shift in tone, a hint of something beneath the surface. Are you looking for peace? Or something more... stimulating?

Jimmy’s smile tightened. She was perceptive, even without sight. Or perhaps it was just a lucky guess. He decided to lean into the ambiguity. Stimulating, perhaps, he said, a suggestive note entering his voice. But with a touch of peace. A place where a man can... relax. And maybe find a little bit of company. His gaze lingered on her, a silent invitation, a veiled threat.

Chloe remained perfectly still, her face serene. Jamaica offers many such places, she