Eye Of Death Novels & Stories

“Fuck you. I hate you. Just kill me already.” Up closer, looking through the cutouts of his dark mask, I see the color of his eyes. They're the rarest most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Those orbs look like they hold the universe, blue and shimmering with a lot of mischief. “If you’re dead, it won't be fun now, will it?” he says. “Better than letting you have your way with me.” I retch and spit on him. Literally.

But they weren't broken either. I looked at Ophelia. She was sobbing. Because she knew Sam's grief was built around a lie. And she couldn't save him from it. Then I felt it. A strange pressure. Watching. I turned. Hundreds of faces. Which one? Then a woman near the back lifted her hand. Black glove. Silver ring. Three lines around a circle. The Eye. My blood froze. She smiled, then walked away. I whispered, "Kazan." He saw my face. "What?"

She added as she headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Velmont asks in concern. She shrugged and turned her head to face them. She showed her pure black eyes, then playfully said, “It's either get ice cream or commit genocide. I’ll decide along the way.” Eleanor gasped in fear. “Eyes of a mass murderer.” She uttered while staring at Vesper’s pure Obsidian black eyes. Cain and Zane rose from their seats on full alert and would shift to their wolf form anytime as her eyes meant she’d killed a lot of creatures.

I slowly approached the man to let my hand rest on his skin for just a brief moment. Three more feet left, and it would all be over. His eyes were already dead and every shade the sky possessed from dawn until dusk, in his dead eyes, they were black. His pupils exploded to fill so much of the eyes. I remembered when they probably used to blink, to sit up and laugh and live life normally like humans were supposed to. But that time, he wouldn't. His eyes were just so still.

Often very attractive with yellow eyes but need to be constantly on the go, kind of like puppies. Then there’s vampires. Pale, elegant, weirdly posh, intelligent, bloodsuckers. And who can forget high elves? Tall, beautiful, clear eyes, long lives, connections to nature, natural leaders. Self important bastards to be honest. Like most fairies, I’m on the short side with pointed ears and colourful hair. Mine’s purple actually. But otherwise, I look like my older brother, Russell, and my mother. Slender, pale, grey eyes. Russell’s just me with dark hair and a growth spurt. Normals don’t really have a “look” but if you look at my dad, a middle aged balding white man, you’d say he’s normal looki

An enormous eye. Evelyn felt the universe tremble. The First Dream fell to her knees. Hope couldn't breathe. David whispered: "No." Evelyn looked at him. "You know it." David nodded. "I've seen it." "When?" "Before I met you." "What did it do?" David looked at the eye. "It showed me the future." Evelyn's voice became quiet. "What future?" "The one where you lose." The eye began descending. The other Evelyn stepped backward. "It's here."

"I killed someone via sex and now I don't know any means of bringing Jonathan back." "Jonathan? Who is—" She sat a shot of rum on her small nightstand. In the center, was an exposed eyeball complete with dangling optic never. In the pupil was the shade of a little man, soul trapped inside an eye, a classic case of demonic exorcism done wrong on the possessed. "Ah...that's Jonathan."

All I see is the same darkness and nothing else. It would be even better if I just closed my eyes as long as there was no bandage. When I close my eyes, my eyes are dark and there is no light to see because I close them. But when my eyes are open and what I see is dark I still can't help but hope that there will be a miracle and all of a sudden I will be able to see. But can I still hope for the miracle that I will be able to see again even though my parents who are the light of my eyes have also been taken from me by heaven? "The doctor said that you can open your eyes now, Lauren," Uncle said later. A few seconds ago I still kept my eyes closed.

Blood bubbles out of the corner of his mouth as he sputters out his dying breaths. Suddenly, his eyes glaze over—but it is not the glaze of death . . . no, this is something . . . different. Trust me, I’ve seen the ‘glaze of death’ enough times to be able to recognize it. There is still consciousness in his eyes—probably more consciousness than there had been moments before—but now there’s something of a distant, crazed glint to his glare. More intent, more focused. If I believed in Voodoo magic, the combination of this horrifying glare and his bloody visage would make me think he’d turned into a zombie.

I couldn't tell what happened next, but by the time I turned back into human form, I saw Diego looking at me with a loving terror in his eyes, and Mr Grey eyes' head rolling like a football on the floor, squirting blood as it rolled. I fell with a thud. I could finally die in peace, at least I killed Mr Grey eyes................