All Around Me Are Worn Out Faces Novels & Stories

My pack, my family, and my allies were gathered around me, our collective exhaustion palpable in the stillness that followed the storm of combat. I could see it in their eyes-each one darkened with the weight of loss and weariness. Paul Biansky's hands were smeared with soot, his gaze distant as he stared at the broken form of what once was a proud pine standing guard over our land. Elara Windrider's silver hair was singed at the ends, her face smeared with ash as she leaned heavily against a fallen log, her usually vibrant aura dimmed by sorrow.

But the scene before me didn’t change. It was the same. It wasn’t my imagination. My best friend, Mia—the very person I’d been thinking about just a while ago was now standing there, looking out of place. Despite the long dress she wore, like she was going to a banquet and accidentally landed here, it didn't hide her as it should. Her face was gaunt, her expression pallid enough to make me doubt if this emaciated individual was really her. Her exposed arms were a testament to it, ashy and rough, and I could see the outlines of her bones. Her face wasn’t spared; her nose was bandaged, and her lips were cracked like someone who hadn't got a sip of water for days.

" You've gone through alot already.... My child she murmured" " I pushed myself up sluggish and sore ", that was when Lillard stepped in " " fellow me, his words were firm I obeyed stepping outside the carve, the air seemed different cleaner and sharper.the world around me did not match anything I remembered. strange how everyone looked, the people were striking their hair it flowed long their features caved by the Gods themselves. The man were broad shoulders and incredibly handsome. The women were tall and elegant all turned to me the moment i stepped out ; their faces trailed my movement curious, confused maybe even wary. I knew I was different I walked behind Lillard ignoring the stares.

The amount of damage that I heard of in the reports was nothing compared to the damage I witnessed with my own eyes. No matter how far I looked, the entire place was filled with carcasses of animals, blood splattered around the entire walls. “Call the elders.” I instructed Mallon as I rushed straight to the meeting room, not even visiting my room to freshen up. The elders arrived immediately, I could see them, all looking fresh and plump. No one even had any dark circles under their eyes, nor any wrinkles on their face. Then I compared their faces to the almost sunken faces of my people. An unknown rage burning through me.

Aria and Lila chorused excitedly. --- The engine hummed as Ivy drove into the city. At first glance, everything looked normal but the longer she drove, the more the cracks began to show. And just as she finally stopped at the traffic light...she was able to study the situation more clearly. People walked along the streets wearing face masks. Some coughed into their sleeves. Others looked pale… exhausted… like their bodies were slowly giving up. Ivy's grip on the wheel tightened. Her heartbeat quickened as she remember this incident.

My eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them swollen and raw, red-rimmed from the endless crying. The dirt from the Tundra was smeared across my forehead like war paint, streaked with tear tracks that carved clean paths through the grime. My lips were trembling, my face a mask of utter devastation, puffy, blotchy, broken. I looked like a woman who had lost everything, because I had. I turned the gold tap, splashing freezing water onto my face until my skin felt numb, the cold shock doing little to soothe the ache inside. I straightened my coat with shaking hands, the fabric heavy and damp.

Uea opened his eyes, and he realized his environment had changed. He was no longer inside the house on the mountain but in a rather dim and eerie room. Whispers rang around him, making him tense up for a moment as he looked around the room. Uea realized he wasn't alone. With him in the room were several young men with pretty faces but shabby clothing. Each of them shared three things in similar___ Incomparably delicate looking face, poverty-stricken clothes, and collars around their necks.

I was like a flower thrown into a kiln and quickly evaporated, becoming shriveled and even scorched. My Face, my face! My wrinkle-free, white, delicate face had become scarred and hideous! Even my hands and body are chapped like bark. I haven't looked in the mirror since I crawled out of the tunnel. No woman can face herself by being so terrible! And it's all because of that damn Nuri!

He unzipped it, and his eyes wander all over the place, from the ceiling down to the floor. He stood up and roamed around. He can see different faces on a bed. There are faces with Brutal, gashed, and swollen faces; wide gaping mouths, which opened for the last time to utter the death-shriek, and are now fixed forever in rigid agony; jagged, discolored teeth, sunken cheeks, knitted brows, dead, sodden eyes, awful contortions, ghastly smiles, hideous leers, faces of men and faces of women, faces of the young and faces of the old, faces which reek with the slime of years of vice and misery and despair.

It’s clear that the laundry house is the place where John squeezes the last bit of life from his omega’s. My presence is ignored. I slowly make my way round in the hope to find her. Every face I see is scarred, everyone has a lifeless look on their face. They are mere husks of living beings. Everyone of them is waiting for death, waiting for freedom and the ending of suffering.