Eyeless Jack No Mask Novels & Stories

Why should this be any different? “Yes, Rose, what’s going on? Or should I say Celeste?” and in two quick strides, Jack ripped the mask from my face, yanking so hard that it snapped the elastic. A collective gasp rose up from our audience and I quickly brought my hands to my face, hiding behind them like a coward. “Celeste?”

Each attendee is directed to select a mask from the counters, setting the stage for an evening of mystery and style. Emma, in harmony with her dress, opts for a captivating red mask adorned with a long black feather cascading down its left side. The mask, veiling almost her entire face, adds an intriguing aura, yet her distinctive emerald eyes remain an unmistakable identifier for those attempting to distinguish her amidst the masked crowd.

I really would need to wash again before anything else, I should have washed before this, but it was too important. “Good’ay.” Came Jack’s chipper voice and I smiled at the little holographic copy of him that rested on the table, sun glasses resting on his face covering up his mangled eye. “Hey, sorry I’m so late calling you back.” Jack smiled, his teeth gleaming white as he tapped his hands on his knees.

"Where are you?" It was no other than Jackson who was on the other side of the call. He was munching on an apple as he stared at his friend, Jace, from the other side of the phone. Jace was dressed in all black and was wearing a nose mask. "You don't know where I am? You can't see?" Jace replied, causing Jack to roll out his laughter. "You look like a ninja on a mission." "Well...that's no further from the truth. "

He stepped out. Tall. Not just tall—broad in that way that made the space around him feel smaller. Dark hair, slightly messy like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. Sharp jaw. Black hoodie, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. But it was his eyes that stopped her cold.

As I stare into the white scream mask , I begin to see images of my life begin to flash before my eyes, making more tears start to gather within them. "P-please." I manage to croak out. The man raises his vacant hand, causing me to flinch in fear as I watch him bring his hand up to his mask before yanking it off of his head in a distressed manner. My stomach immediately drops and my heart begins to race against my chest as I stare into the dark and disturbed eyes looking back at me. "Jack?!"

He turned to me and this time he looked straight in my eyes and he continues, “I will try and come back here to see you. But if I can’t and you can recognize me without my mask when we meet once again, then I won’t hesitate to be yours forever. This I promise.” I became dumbfounded at the moment and couldn’t speak a word but just look into his sparkling eyes. He blinked and cleared his throat before looking away, he made his way out of the room without looking back. My heart that was accelerating at the moment stopped the instant he closed the door vanishing from my sight.

As the heavy duty jeep trundled away from Five Lakes Jack and Caleb sat in silence together. They both wore relaxed jeans and button-down shirts in differing shades of blue highlighting their mossy brown eyes. Jack wore a black eye-patch, daring anyone to stare at his disfigurement. There had already been several instances where his rage had boiled over against those he felt were judging him. Caleb had almost not brought him along, but his father had insisted that they stick together.

I know it's nothing but a pair of eyes from a painting but the true meaning behind this painting freaks everyone out, she didn't need to know why it meant, cause if she didn't she'd be horrified. Jack looks at me and I at him, I shake my head, telling him not to say a word about it, he nods. "That my dear is the eyes of Lord Ego." Jack tells her. Regardless of the fact that he sounded like it was no big deal just now, I could sense how Jack trembled from his voice and how he just hesitated. He was staring at the painting with such intense fear, trying hard to maintain his composure.

The kind that says I see you and I am glad and this is everything and I will not make it weird. When she pulls back her eyes are doing something. "Do not," I say. "I am not doing anything," she says. "Your eyes are doing something," I say. "They are fine," she says, blinking rapidly. "Completely fine. Dust." "Hackney dust." "Notorious for it," she says.