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The Eyes of a Stranger

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by , August 5th, 2016 at 11:21 PM (554 Views)
So...I've never written a blog before...I don't exactly know what a blog is... But I'm not exactly "blogging" in the traditional sense of the word, I just love to write, and thought this might be a good place to put some of the things I've written I would enjoy any comments or critique! (gently, please!)

This is a piece of flash-fiction, (well, it got a little long *cough cough*) and I called it The Eyes of A Stranger. It is a little "darker" than my typical writing style, but I hope you find it interesting!

I stood outside the door of the big party room, hearing laughter and music and a babble of voices. I clutched my reticule and felt the familiar flutter of nervousness and excitement that always tightened my stomach just before I entered a crowded room.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my skirt and opened the door with confidence. The heat and babble rose around me and swallowed me up.
I looked around, but couldn’t see anyone who I knew so I pushed further into the room towards the table where they were serving food and punch—judging from the looks of some of the people that had been there longest, that wasn’t all the bowl contained.
The crowd thinned some in front of me and as I looked around, my eyes were suddenly arrested by a beautiful woman across the room. She looked self-assured, confident, and smiling. She was dressed in the latest style and still looked neat despite the heat of the room and the press of people around her. But I caught a flicker of something—something that was out of place and not as it should have been; something I am sure that the woman did not want anyone to see. There was a wild, desperate, untamable look beneath the unruffled surface of her self-possession.
I found myself looking deeply into her eyes, and the pain I saw in them made me catch my breath. They were troubled, stormy, pensive; with a look of bewilderment in them as if she was lost or frightened, or did not understand where her life was taking her. She was drawn into herself, suffering and afraid like an animal, hurt and caged.
In a flash I saw what might very well have been the past life of the beautiful, suffering woman that stood before me. Heartbreak, disillusionment, wounds too deep for the even the bearer of them to fathom. Hidden wounds, I guessed, still painful; raw and healing.
There was anger there too, and confusion. I looked past the life she had been through, and saw the dreary road ahead, full of reckless heartbreaks, a life of passion and rebellion. A broken life. Sleepless nights and endless unanswered pleas. A life completely devoid of happiness or true joy. Shards of a life that had once been whole and perfect, but were now dashed into ruin.
They were aching eyes, with longings unfulfilled, and hopes that perished in the sunlight. Eyes that had known many scalding tears and many dry nights, when the relief of tears would not come to them.
She had tasted the sweetness of life and it had left her bitter. She had trusted the lie that the world had given her and found betrayal. She had been offered peace, and sacrificed what peace she had for a life of agony. She had been promised beauty and received fickleness and suffering. She had given all, and been sucked dry. Tired, anguished, hopeless, ruined, scarred. She had passed through life’s battles, and came out maimed.
I longed to reach out to her and discover her hurt and heal it. I longed to help her shoulder her load and share it with her, to befriend and help her.
I searched the rest of her face, and found beneath her smiles a torturing pain. Again I saw bewilderment and confusion, disillusionment and heartbreak stamped on every feature of the beautiful face. And again I wanted to comfort her.
Unable to bear the look of loss that her smiles were so vainly trying to hide any longer, I turned away. I saw the woman turn also. I turned back towards her, and looked back into the mirror; and saw again the bewilderment and loss in my eyes, the eyes of a stranger.

Not The End
Cherries, HS and Lovesong like this.

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Updated August 6th, 2016 at 06:29 PM by Tinuviel

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  1. mar09's Avatar
    So many words... no, i dont mean it as a negative comment. It's just that i could never write fiction like that, but u could be a writer, if u arent already one-).
    Tinuviel likes this.
  2. MadParrotWoman's Avatar
    You describe well, I think you should start a short story thread.
    Tinuviel likes this.
  3. HS's Avatar
    That's pretty good keep up the good work. I write too but always bite off more than I can chew lol.
    Tinuviel likes this.
  4. Cherries's Avatar
    Beautifully written! I am glad to find someone with a passion for writing like myself. You have a gift, God bless you
    Tinuviel likes this.
  5. Tinuviel's Avatar
    Thanks ladies!

    Mar, thanks for the encouragement! I've written stories since before I knew the alphabet via dictation to my siblings, but only recently have I considered becoming what the world would recognize as a "writer".

    MPW, I've thought of starting a short-story thread, but my short-stories always turn into long-stories, and then never get finished So contribution from me would be a bit slim.

    HS, Good to see another writer out there! And I have the problem of biting off more than I can chew also!

    Cherries, I guessed that you loved to write based on your blog post; keep up the good work, and God bless you also!
    Cherries likes this.
  6. ManVsSin's Avatar
    It's official! You have got to start a short story thread this is absolutely fascinating! I'm not just saying this but your good, really good! I bet you got 4s on your essays all the time sorry I'm done now.
    Tinuviel likes this.
  7. Tinuviel's Avatar
    Thank you . I loved essays and did tend to get good grades lol. It made up for the math.... There have been various short-story threads started in the past, but they always get buried pretty quickly. But it is time to make a another! That would be a lot of fun