Bright Eyes Shirley Temple Novels & Stories

Shirley suddenly questioned me and I raised my head to where she was gesturing to, just to see Brielle, she was glaring at us. "She's not my friend, Shirley," I told her. "She is looking as if you took her breath away from her. Babe, she's muttering you with her eyes, aren't you feeling the daggers? I bet she has driven one into your heart, another one into your brain, and the last one from your stomach down to your pussy." "Shirley!" I began to glare at her. "What?!" She laughed, she was finding it funny. "I'm not the one glaring at you, am I? That glare should go to Brielle, she is the one killing you with her eyes." She seemed nonchalant and she continued to laugh.

However, it wasn’t the same as to what I'm seeing now. There was a boy. I can’t recognize his face because of the weird blurry effect of the dream. The only thing I saw clearly were his eyes. His emerald-colored eyes are still engraved in my mind. Even though it’s already been a year since I last dreamt of it, I still can’t forget his eyes. The scenes may be different to what I'm seeing now, but they were both peculiar and still not on earth.

Everything. My face glows a soft, warm color of life. My eyes are no longer bloodshot. But they are different. I stutter out a soft sigh as I slowly blink. Slowly, and even more slowly, I blink my left eye. It is a shade of complete, absolute silver. Even the iris, which had once glittered a gentle amber, has lost all its color. It now looks like the ashen background of a graveyard. Almost like a lie, my other eye stares back at me, with the tenderness of fresh, sweet honey.

My ears just needed a moment or two to stop ringing and to focus. With her bouncing blonde curls, large blue eyes, and a huge smile, she almost reminds me of Shirley Temple. It would be as if she were out having fun instead of being incarcerated. I held up my finger so she could see the visual as well to let me have a brief moment to think. Groaning I ask, "Where are we?" It was like she didn't even hear me, she continued on with her own agenda.

I’m about to use Emerald’s eyes again when a vision overwhelms me. ** I see Alpha Everly’s eyes glow menacingly. They are now a glowing iridescent white, incredibly spooky. Light swirls around her as she brings vines up from the ground. There are creatures with red eyes surrounding her, pressed to kill. The creatures are pitch black, twisted and evil. While they fear her light, they are charged with one motivation: snuff out the light. She can’t do this alone. She needs help. I see a pair of hazel eyes before me. They close with finality. I see the same vision, but with a pair of bright blue eyes. There is a feeling of sorrow that washes over me.

I place my hand on her back, trying to soothe her. "It hurts." She mumbles in between sobs. I move some of the hair from her face and can feel that she's running warmer than usual. She looks up at me, and her eyes are glowing purple. I take in a sharp breath, not expecting her to be showing any signs of her powers developing, but I give her a small, reassuring smile.

"Thanks, she is like this because she came to know about the history of Raichands" Anya froze when she heard the word Raichands, some flashes comes in her mind of a woman watering the plants, playing the piano and was lying on her death bed, she closes her fist and eyes to calm her emotions and whisper yells "Raichands?" Sophia who didn't notice her friends emotional changes speaks

Her almond-shaped eyes blinked many times before making puppy eyes on me. “Where did my baby go? Let me guess,” I squinted my eyes, sniffing the top of her hair. “I can smell Mr. Sun, and it looked like Mr. Sun is so angry today,” Bree giggled, letting me see Blake in her whenever she laughed. They said she was my mini-me, but I was sure she looked more like him except for Bree’s eyes and heart-shaped face.

BEVERLY The line between a dream and a nightmare is entirely defined by how fast your heart is beating when you wake up. When my eyes flew open the next morning, my sheets were tangled around my legs like restraints, and the pale, unforgiving light of dawn was filtering through my sheer curtains. I hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time I had managed to drift off into a shallow, exhausted slumber, the memory of Damian’s bare chest—sculpted, scarred, and radiating absolute power—would manifest behind my eyelids. But worse than the memory of his body was the memory of his eyes. That terrifying, instantaneous snap from exhaustion to lethal alertness when my forehead had grazed the drywall.

She should let go. Chloe smiled at her thoughts. It felt much more relieving this morning. When she opened her eyes, a beam of bright light entered her eyes, making her squint and quickly pull the blanket. Suddenly, she realized that there was something different about her vision. Slowly, she lowered the blanket she had used to block the light. The longer the morning, the more her eyes started to adjust. She initially saw bright spots and primary colors, but now, the light was becoming dazzling.