Fine Light Skin Novels & Stories

I lean against the flimsy sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I know I’m not the classical version of beautiful. But my skin is clear of blemishes, and my green eyes aren’t as rare as Rome’s honey-colored eyes, but they are still uncommon enough. I frown when I eye my hair. The vibrant fiery red draws all the attention from any decent features I have. That’s the problem, my hair. And my pale complexion is littered with freckles that try to consume my face.

They’re both gorgeous – not as gorgeous as Amelia mind you. The first is about 5’5” with soft mocha skin. She has thick dark brown – almost black – braids that reach to the top of her bustline and are parted to the right. She has a dusting of dark brown freckles across her cheeks and nose, and those are just the normal things about her. She has these intense golden eyes, and I mean gold. Her irises sparkle like liquid gold and her skin is glittery. Her skin has this natural golden glitter in it that shimmers as the light touches it.

Much less adorned than the type of woman he was accustomed to. Her face had only the bare minimum of makeup, showing flawless ivory skin, her copper eyes slightly emphasized by colored eyeshadow. Her full lips had just a bit of pale pink gloss on them that wouldn’t take long to kiss right off. Her long, light-brown hair was straight, falling well past her shoulders, and it looked as if it would be soft to touch, not stiff with product. A man would be able to sift it through his fingers and watch it spill over his pillow.

Then suddenly, it lit up again. She exhaled. “Maybe I’m just tired.” She had been saying that a lot lately. Ever since graduation. Ever since hope started feeling fragile instead of bright. Rain ran off the bus, forming slow streams along the metal. The air smelled of wet pavement and diesel. Clara stared at her reflection in the dark screen. She looked thinner, more alert, as if expecting disaster. Across the street, traffic lights flickered, then steadied. She didn’t notice. Above her, hidden in the mist, Shomer hovered. His edges wavered. Rain passed through him like smoke.

Not when Finn slips his hand in mine and leads me over to the window. I squint at first, the bright sunlight hitting my eyes with overwhelming intensity. “Are you okay, minha borboleta?” “Um yeah. I’m a little light sensitive,” I mumble. “A fun side effect of heterochromia.” “Heterochromia,” Finn repeats, almost as if he’s savoring this information about me. “Your eyes?” I nod. He hums and reaches around me, closing the sheer curtain just enough to diffuse the light. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Is this better?”

Orange early morning light was pouring into the otherwise dim room through the skyscraper’s all-glass exterior walls, making Fiona’s porcelain skin look flushed with a peachy glow. In one pic she was running a hand through her silky hair. Her long fingernails were freshly manicured, painted pink with white tips. Another pic showed Fiona leaning forward, tugging the neckline of her dress down and angling the camera for a good look at her pillowy cleavage. In all the pics her steely blue eyes and perfect, fuchsia-slicked lips were caught in expressions of coquettish taunting. “Fuck,” I mumbled. My mouth filled with saliva.

I rock her gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. If I close my eyes, I can pretend the hair beneath my lips is darker. Curlier. Softer. If only her skin weren’t so pale. Just a few shades warmer… I tighten my hold and murmur softly, “Exactly.” In my mind, the image shifts—brown skin, hazel eyes, that small beauty mark beneath her left eye. Perfect. “That’s why we don’t need to panic,” I continue gently. “But we do need to make sure there are no loose ends.”

Her eyes held a different shine which insinuated the efforts she put in to bring out this special effect in the formula. "Yes? But how?" Robin Sir had a puzzled expression on his face. "That's because all the fine lines of my skin are blurred under the thin layer of this cream." To confirm the verity of her statement she extended her other hand, turning the same spot in front, in comparison. "Look at the fine lines here and then back at this hand. You'll see the fine lines have faded away." She asked us to compare. Robin Sir grinned like a kid and shook his head. "Indeed. It's amazing!" His eyes were glowing more than Gaby's.

Cruel, perhaps—but true. I reached out and guided her face back toward me. This time, she didn’t fight. She sat still, small and tense, as I pressed the warm cloth to her cheek and wiped away the streaks of dirt. It took only a few passes before the grime began to fade, revealing what lay beneath. I paused. Then swallowed. Beautiful was too small a word for what I was seeing. It wasn’t enough. Her features were delicate, but not fragile—precise. Almost too fine, as if shaped with more care than intended. Her skin, though, was too pale. Nearly colorless, like it had never known enough sun to warm it.

"It's a good day today, so I'm in a good mood." Sunlight shone on her face. Her skin was white and her eyes were bright. She was even more delicate than a flower. Ferguson Zhengkang caressed her delicate face. This woman was beautiful. Even without heavy makeup, her skin looked transparent and smooth, like an egg without eggshell.