Wednesday, September 15, 2010

In the strange confines of the mind.

I almost never show anyone else what I write outside of things I write for school. I write a lot, but I'm never satisfied with what it is to say that I have written it. Mmm. But I wrote something last week and...Mou. I like it~! It's weird. Very weird. And no, it's not amazing, I already know that. But I like it. And since I write for my own satisfaction, that is all that matters.

It was somewhat inspired by Fahrenheit 451 and strange dreams. The premise is vague, as are the characters. A genetically elitist society of sorts, but I can't tell you much beyond that.

Glass Eyes

The doctor sat there, strong and handsome, his bright blue eyes clear, filled with a warmth that seemed to follow him everywhere. Though he sat still, so still, he was wrapped up in a grace that seemed to defy all the rigid confines of reality. He had a near glow of perfection.

I knew the man well, having become acquainted years ago. How had we met? A seminar? A house party, perhaps. Maybe even vacations and winding destinies were the answer. I didn't remember anymore. I knew him well. My attention, however rapt, was not for him.

It was for the small girl who sat next to his chair, nestled in a contraption I had not seen outside of historical simulations. A wheelchair.

She was lovely, pale as if she was bathed in moonlight, the shimmer on her skin dancing and winking as if she was aglow. Delicate, pointed features – like that of a pixie, the little faerie that were so popular among youth.

Her eyes were what had me so enthralled. They were like glass, perfectly smooth and flawless – crystal ghosts that would haunt me for an eternity onward.

It was her eyes and the wheelchair. I couldn't look away. I didn't want to. It was as if she were a flame and I was a moth, dancing closer to my death. Such an apt description, I had no words. I just stared, a ice cold wrapping itself around my heart.

The doctor held up a hand and I shut my mouth, unable to remember what I'd wanted to say in the first place.

“I know.” He said simply. “I know. But when she was born.” He glanced sidelong at the little girl. “We knew already, of course.” The doctor spoke slowly, each word carefully given its own weight. “'Kill it, kill it, kill it' they told me...but I looked down at her. And she wasn't alright...I knew that. But she was so perfect. And she was...she was mine.” He drew his gaze away from her, looking at me, his eyes calm and steady. “I couldn't do it...”

“My wife – ah, you never met her – she never knew,” He continued on. “I hid our child and before I knew little girl had no mother.”

“She was quite an ageless beauty.” I agree quietly. I had, of course, never met her, but the holograms had been enough.

“I think she got her smile, don't you?” He was back to looking at his child, “They never got to meet...But~,” gently reaching a hand out, he brushed fingers through her dark hair. “She's still her mother's child...”

“Doc...” I murmured, unsure of what to say, of what I could say. He cut his gaze to me, giving me a small smile.

“I don't expect you to keep it a secret...I don't expect anything from you.” He told me finally, standing up and moving behind her wheelchair, grasping the handles. “This will be the last time we meet.” He suddenly looked so tired, like a shell of who he had been mere moments before. “Thank you for being my friend. And thank you for listening.” He carefully wheeled his daughter out the back door and no other word was spoken.

I sat there, feeling the tick, tick, tick of time and unsure of how I was. Clocks, time, all irrelevant unless you liked digging through history.

I thought about her.

I thought about her eyes.

Those eyes.

Slowly pulling myself to my feet, I turned, heading for the front door and letting myself out. I felt dazed as I walked down the street, as if someone had pulled a shade over my eyes, transforming everything I was used to into something so familiar but so alien.

I felt lost.


I never saw the doctor again. They disappeared, but there were whispers, always whispers. He'd fled, they'd found him, he'd resisted, they'd shot him.

I never heard anything about the little girl.


Somewhere out there, under the sky, she lies. Her eyes are heavenward and the stars are reflected in those eyes, those eyes that fade in and out of my memory, perfect and smooth as glass.

They hunt for her.

Kill it, kill it, kill it they chant at me.

And somewhere, far away, her eyes close.

The End

Nothing fantastic or anything, but I do like it. ♥

Completely off topic, but I feel the urge to change my layout. Going to get on that! ー笑ー

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