All Around Me Are Worn Out Faces Novels & Stories

My eyelids fluttered open, and as the haze retreated, I found myself gazing up at faces I had longed to see for an eternity. The world came into focus slowly, a mosaic of faces imprinted with the weight of lifetimes both lived and lost. My heart thudded to its own uncertain rhythm, unsure whether to stand in defiant protest or simply lay bare to whatever fate awaited me. The faces around me were like stars against a night sky, each one a point leading me back from the void. "How?" It was barely a whisper, a fractured sound that escaped before I could rein it back.

Mallory endured, but Oddny’s heart and mind can’t bear it. She looked at the younger one’s face. Unlike her usual bubbly personality, her face was shrouded by gloom. Her face was pale like paper, and her lips were chapped as if they were deprived of water. Under her eyes were black bags, too heavy that one might think she hadn’t had her sleep for a very long time.

The meal I had a few days ago but never finished. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and I saw how shabby I looked. My hair, usually styled with care, resembled a tangled bird's nest at that very moment. My red-rimmed eyes, puffy and raw from crying, stared back from the mirror. My once vibrant face was pale and drawn, etched with the lines of sorrow. Dark circles were beneath my eyes and spoke of sleepless nights spent wrestling with grief. My scrub, stiff with dried tears and grime, reeked of a salty sorrow. A foul odor hung heavy in the air, a combination of the unwashed cloth, my unwashed body, and the general neglect of the room.

Let the water wash my troubles away. “You about done in there?” Andrew hollers, snapping me back to the harsh reality of my circumstances. I turn off the water, dry myself, and slip on the tiny uniform left for me. Wiping the fog from the mirror, I look at myself for the first time in months, and I barely recognize the face staring back at me.

Don't want anybody knowing. After I finished, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. My green-blue eyes hold no life; they are dull, lifeless, with no shine in them whatsoever. They used to be so bright, full of life and happiness, but now they are dead; there is nothing in them, and they look so empty. My face is too thin and pale from the little food and dehydration. My clothes are too big and baggy because I'm too thin. Overall I'm not the most appealing to look at.

I had to go to work and face whatever was waiting for me there. When I walked into the Roma Aesthetics building, the difference was immediate. The usual buzz of energy was gone, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence. Everyone moved slowly, their faces drawn, their eyes avoiding each other’s. No one said "Good morning," and the usual smiles that welcomed me every day were nowhere to be found. It felt like we were all in mourning, and in a way, we were—mourning the failure that had hit us so hard.

the man added Why I can't see his face, why it's very blurry and why it's fading. " All the disappointments, broken dreams and deep dark experiences will soon be forgotten and blotted out like a bad dream when the glorious dawn of Heaven arrives," the man said as he rubbed the back of my head. What is this? What does this mean? " Hey Joash, " I heard a loud voice coming towards my location, I saw 6 shadows running towards my area, their faces are blurry as well.

A new personal low, and not the kind of record anyone hangs proudly on a wall. It was seven in the morning now, and I had to walk back into that same arena and stand across from that same mouth like absolutely nothing had happened between us the night before. Fantastic. Truly, deeply fantastic. I leaned closer toward the mirror and inspected the damage more honestly this time. The circles beneath my eyes had progressed well past simple tiredness and settled firmly into something that looked closer to haunted, dark enough that I resembled someone who had personally lost a physical altercation with a raccoon, and lost decisively at that.

I’ve tried to make ends meet, but the noose has just one loop and it’s the perfect size for my neck. I’ve waddled through life on all fours, occasionally eating dust when I fall. I’ve tried using my feet to paddle through days and weeks, even months too. But the years keep tumbling by and by—over me, leaving me with my hair disheveled, and my face? a mere caricature of a creature from a child’s nightmare; with my hair wild and windblown. Oh! my cheeks are almost like I was strapped to the backseat of a missile while the air slapped hard against my face like the clanging of spoons when these children on the street manage to get the pot from the woman who owns a fast food just before her daugh

are the final words I hear before destruction strikes. A plenty of beautiful women swarm around me quickly, something I have developed to deal with. Many new faces are near, made-up into insensibility. I in a flash grin, attempting frantically to cloak the unexpected uneasiness under. I used to be comfortable under these respecting looks, yet presently they alarm me as though I'm a deer trapped in the headlights.