Lifeless Eyes Like A Doll's Eyes Novels & Stories

At least that was a plus. I sneak a look into her eyes. She's beautiful and her eyes too. But they are dull and lifeless. There is no glow in them. They are empty. Almost as if she is a corpse walking, trying to fit in with people that are alive. I sit up and turn to face her. Why am I interested in her all of a sudden? Get a hold of yourself, asshole. Someone probably poisoned you, and now you're dying. This is just a result of that. Maybe I should check my pulse to make sure I'm alive.

It's clear what's coming and I try to look away but there's a kind of compulsion about the obscene spectacle. One eye is popped out from its socket; carried away, head held high, by its owner, presumably for leisurely consumption elsewhere. The other is eaten in situ, with apparent relish by its rodent gastronome. Juliana's face, already bloodless and bloated, mottled green-black, becomes an eyeless parody: two gaping black holes, seeping black, staring into space. How many of them are there? What happens when they've finished with the corpse?

Her mind numbing with each decapitated limb that shot into her vision. Blood, gore, death, starvation, agony, pain ... Suffering; these were the things that Elika linked to life. The only things she ever saw, or perhaps will ever witness in her timely and cruel immortal years. Her violet eyes seeing more in her few short years in this world than most see in their lifetimes, her soul blackening with each death; each eternal existence she saw banished into the afterlife. Never to be seen again.

Grey looking creatures with ghastly eyes. Their eyes are so dark it’s difficult to point out the iris, their skin are pale and they are thin. They make weak gusty sounds and reveal a horrid set of canine-molars. “Kill her” he orders and they begin to run towards Rachael. She closes her eyes and bite her lip hard as she anticipates her death. She begins to see the memories, those memories that made life worth it. The time she spent with her dad, the many quarrels she had with her mother, college and even high school.

Like a precious doll left out in a storm for years. But it was her eyes that shattered him completely. Those dark, expressive eyes that had once held galaxies of warmth, intelligence, and a love that had seared his soul, were now empty. Not vacant, exactly, but clouded. Confused. They darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar opulence with the wary, uncomprehending gaze of a wild animal trapped indoors. There was no spark of recognition, no flicker of the fierce spirit he knew. Just a profound, terrifying blankness.

She looked so fragile. And so…hollow….and broken. Like someone had reached inside her and scooped out everything that made her her, leaving behind just this empty shell. Like someone has taken one of the reasons behind her happiness. She looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes; the ones that used to sparkle with life and joy and love—they were dull now. Almost lifeless. And her eyes were red, there were tears sliding down her pale cheeks, silent and steady, as if she'd been crying for so long she didn't even notice anymore.

She was just a walking doll, waiting for the perfect moment to drown. Her eyes involuntarily went to the scraper and glanced at it again before raising her head to the mirror, staring at her eyes… a rare case... Gray eyes… She has never seen a black person with grey eyes except her. An abomination. She shuddered, taking the scraper, as her thoughts were going wild... Should I just end it by removing them? it would be good, so no one could look at them… well… they weren't brown like her father's but her mother's pair of eyes… She hated them.

One of them was Vernon who couldn't keep his eyes off her, not because he's attracted, but because he noticed how lifeless the girl's expressions were. 'She's like a doll,' he commented inwardly. Like a literal doll, the girl was sitting without moving or changing the direction of her eyes. If she wasn't blinking, everyone might think she's really a doll which happened to look so realistic. "Who's that?" Vernon's friend asked. They were playing at his mansion's garden so of course, they expected that Vernon knew whatever is going in that place. "Is she okay? Should we talk to her?" Another one suggested.

My eyes became narrow in that direction, my pupils got dialed after looking at what there was and I turned my gaze back again to the aunt. "Jane...Jane, there is a haunted doll in our house," she said in a shaking voice. The doll was in very bad condition. It was dark there because of which that doll was looking scarier, it was colored in red color, one eye was missing, one ear was missing and legs were torn. "Wait, why is this doll fat?" I narrowed my eyes when I saw it properly. "Aunt Jennifer, it is not a doll it is a teddy bear," I exclaimed to her.

And since it was, how we played made all the difference. I felt something brush up against my leg the moment Kizzy built up the courage to speak. It was one of the dolls - the eyeless, mouthless dolls that only had symbols on their clothed stomachs. The one doll touching my ankle had a pentagram on their belly, drawn in red. Aside from yarned hair on their head, everything else was bare. If they had stories to tell, they wouldn't be able to tell them.