Eyes from the Mist

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Inspired by a question from someone close.
"What is it like to stare into my eyes?"

Submitted: June 04, 2009

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Submitted: June 04, 2009

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Our gaze met. Against my will I found myself locked in a stare beyond that which I had ever witnessed. The world swam around me, an incoherent blur to the sheer sight I beheld.
I dove into the silver mist, throwing away all regret and fear, eager to discover what may lie on the other side, hoping that this time above all others I would finally understand her, truly.
For many long moments I waded through the mist, the smoky tendrils caressing me along my path. Looking down I found myself enlightened to the fact that I stood not upon stone, earth or sand. I stood now inches above the deepest blue sea you could ever fathom, going on for miles before one could strike the ocean floor.
Shifting my vision upward revealed a pale blue sky, wrapped delicately in the soft clouds. The sun wasn’t out again, I noticed. Far into the eastern sky rested the moon, watching over me as I tread this magical world.
Movement in the corner of my eye forced me to look forward. A torrent from the mist swirled about, folding and reshaping into the guise of a young woman, the woman who owned this world. Even here, even in this strange place she surprised me. Her movement alone, for I knew she couldn’t speak in this place, bade me to follow her as she strode towards the storm which always broke into this land.
Thunder rolled freely here and the lightning danced unchained from the sky. As I traveled her wake I noticed other people about me, scenes of her past, some including myself, some not, briefly touched by the playful bolts of skyfire.
The one beside me continued on, unphased by the passing memories.
We moved deeper into the storm. The images gradually becoming more aggressive, more animated. The women of memory began to show pain upon their fragile faces, portraits of suffering feeding the thunder.
She staggered, drawing my attention to her. She had turned slightly and now faced a darker part of the storm, silently gazing into its depths. With a silent scream and a brutal shove she bolted forward, cutting an opening in the shadowed wall and leaving my sight.
Knowing that it may finally be time I rushed in behind her.
Immediately I was bombarded by pain. Onward through the pain and shadow I moved, desperate to find her and shelter her for the way back had closed. The maelstrom of the darkest reaches of her mind battered against me like a biting cold, attempting to cast me down, trying to prolong the suffering she felt alone.
I found her there, within the hurricane. She stood deathly still and tears crawled down her cheeks. Moving closer I took note that what little light that existed in this pace seemed drawn into the intangible barrier before her. Even the images of despair collected in this thing of darkness.
As I reached her side I could feel the pull. Concerned, I took her hand in mine, ready to save her if the pull became too great. Her face, still shrouded in the silver-blue mist of the sea, turned to me. In that moment I knew what must be done.
Then, together, with more courage than I thought I ever possessed, we stepped forward, ripping into the abyss.

The sights and sounds, thoughts and feelings that I witnessed within the vortex of her past are too dark, even for one such as myself, to put into words. Of all the things I experienced, I had not expected to witness such blinding truth laid out before me when we broke through the darkness together.
It was her. All I had just experienced were merely pieces of her. Shards of a broken life, unmended and hidden away in the deepest recess of her heart.
We shared something then, having survived the tsunami of her past. We pierced the darkness surrounding her mind. It was not merely courage that the woman and I needed to survive this journey. If it was so simple she would have done so long ago. Only one thing was needed. One emotion shared and brandished for all to see allowed for the passage through this dark world.
I took a moment to look at her. Her face was clear now, no longer a slave to her past. What I beheld in those silver-blue orbs, free from the haunting mist of the past, sent a shiver throughout my soul, lodging a shard of her heart within mine.
It was there. The mixed emotion of fear and joy that we need to survive the world around us. It was that emotion shared between two people that helped us forge her soul anew.
It was Love.


-Mike Stevenson 06/01/09 -

Damn Im good :D


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