Eye Of The Beholder

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

This was written the same day as 'Moth To A Flame'. I've yet to decide if they go together or not, so I'll let you readers decide for yourselves.

Eye Of The Beholder

Short Story By; Pestilence

 

Beauty is nothing, but a reflection in a dead-man's eye.

Sounds of harsh breathing and the distant rumble of the highway, echo down the narrow alley way. So stereotypical- The bricks now bleed the aroma of sweat, as the grimy windows replay the same scene over and over. The vile spirit of the act seeps into the mineral's pores and into the vacant hallways of section eight. Where empty children slumber, their heads full of thoughts, stomachs full of hatred. 
 
'Hey beautiful'. The same phrase, a different girl. But this time he's got the real deal- A soul damned to walk the streets-. Her lips turn up into a grin as she drags him deeper into the shadows. She makes not a sound as she reaches behind her. 

Blood sprays out onto the sleeve of her jacket, and the side of her face. The moon catches the minuscule droplets crawling around the side of her eye, boarding the edge of her raven hair. Crimson contrasting her ivory skin, as she tugs the blade loose from his torso. The man sputters a faint groan as his body slumps against the side of the apartment building. Humans. 

She digs her blood red nails into the man's chin and slams his head against the bricks. His body flinches, he is still alive. Leaning in she catches his gaze in an amused glare. As the man's heart slows to a near ending, her reflection becomes bolder in his pain riddled eyes. She does not see the face of a promiscuous young woman, but rather that of a pattern of wispy smoke, and stray- stolen energy. The flesh in her hands became cold, as the color was flushed to an inhuman alabaster, his pupils combusted into tangled veins.

That is what the Creator praises, what the legions desire. That is what the Butterfly envies, every time she glances at herself. That is beauty. 

The eyes are said to be the windows to one's soul, they only got it slightly wrong. 
Reluctantly she drops the corpse to the ground and continues her journey to the Furnace.


Submitted: March 31, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Pestilence. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Audrey Wilson

I was wondering if you have ever played baldur's gate that had beholders and the creator in it but I was wondering if this was the end of the story. Please answer on my page if you can.

Sun, April 1st, 2012 12:27am

chelly1979

WOW I loved it. By just reading the title I did not see that comming. The use of the color red is wonderful with this story. One of the classes I have taken in College dealt with the use of words in a story and how using certain words makes the story more powerful. Keep writing.

Thu, April 5th, 2012 1:33pm

Adrian Hunt

Brilliantly creepy and very well written - a tutorial in showing rather than telling. Your imagery is spot on as well. Couple of commas at the beginning that I think you could do without (in the first and second sentences) and you slip into past tense briefly at the end of paragraph 5. Nicely written - well done!

Fri, August 5th, 2016 7:21pm

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