Lifeless Eyes Like A Doll's Eyes Mga Nobela at Kwento

Fiona had a pair of big doll eyes and it has the same color as those of the finest emerald. Those beautiful eyes of hers were framed by thick and long eyelashes. It was so long that Allan was even starting to doubt if Fiona's eyes were modeled after the eyes of an ostrich.

I do not think Lizzy needed an answer to her statement, but Aunt Nora gave one anyway. “His eyes look dead and cold.” There is nothing that frightened me more than seeing those eyes and that stone cold face even if it was for just a moment before he looked away. I have never seen a living wolf looking like that, even the rejected ones or those who lost their mates through death do not have that kind of look.

Five empty wooden chairs pushed tight against the huge round table bespoke of the losses he had recently suffered. The Necromancer was a large man—if indeed the misshapen figure could be called a man—significantly bigger than any of his comrades, in girth even more so than height. He possessed a huge bulbous belly, and his hairless head was almost as round as a basketball. In the dimness of the room, the skin of his face and hands seemed almost white—a milky, deathly white more reminiscent of a corpse than a living human being. He had thick purplish lips, a broad, flat nose, and no eyebrows at all. As fearsome as the rest of his countenance was, his most frightening feature by far was his ey

"My Doll." She fell in love with the contented smile on Zoni's face and her eyes slipped on her daughter's face. Beautiful honey-colored eyes, dark curly eyelids, blooming color, small nose, and plump pink lips. When she swallowed saliva while talking, there was a deep hole in her right cheek. She was in perfect shape. ۔ Moisture started falling on Tanavash's eyelids again .

And what eyes they were. Dull, lifeless, glassy. Their faces, from what I could see, were also in need of attention from good-quality skincare products. Not that moisturising would help at this point. They were all dead. Not rotting, nothing falling off, just dead. I remembered Jenny asking me what I would do if she became one of the undead. Perhaps not quite as hypothetical a question as I’d thought.

So much more important than thread and stuffing and glass eyes, wrapped in a half-torn dress. I still feel bad about that doll. The one I saved from a hooker name. A doll I carried around with me for years, and now remember only in flashes. Bare, bright impressions, like seeing something through burned retinas. Seared over everything in a glowing silhouette. The same as Loki. I barely met Loki, but when I remember him it’s with a sick stirring so deep and violent it’s like there’s a clawed hand rammed down my throat. Churning my guts around. Turning my insides into so much fine flesh confetti.

Chapter 1 The room was gloomy and dimly lit. The only beam of light in the darkness came from the screen of the Television. Nestled in my usual chair, my eyes rested on the flickering screen of the big box. On the screen of the box was a girl, staring at three traditional african dolls, all of them were dressed in white gowns. One was burned to a crisp, the second was only scorched on one side and the third was untouched by the flames. The girl reached out her hand and picked up the doll that had not been burned. She smiled down on it and caressed its cheek. The doll had eyes that seemed to sparkle. I stared in horror as the sparkly eyes suddenly warped into a bloody red. The doll cackled fi

But I forced my eyes open, locking onto his photo. Those eyes seemed to bore into me, promising the dominance I craved. I pumped the dildo faster, the wet sounds of my pussy squealing in the quiet room. Christmas lights twinkled faintly from the living room down the hall, but here, it was just me and my filthy fantasy.

She felt her stupid heart flutter as the light caught his ebony curls, turning it to burnished gold, his green orbs twinkling with delight as he practically charmed the socks of his latest prey. Suddenly, as if feeling her gaze on him, his eyes snapped to hers, their gazes meeting. Marco Vitale's gorgeous eyes, usually alight with cunning, darkened with genuine hunger as he caught sight of her. He bit his lip and immediately flame licked down her spine. Dismissing his quarry like a child would their toy, he moved through the throng of guests – politicians, businessmen, and the shadowed figures that comprised their world – with a predator's grace, his focus solely on her.

I thought he was joking. Now, I’d give anything to return to that night and hold him longer. Even if it cost me my soul. Something moved in the corner of the room. My flashlight flicked back on—by itself. Its beam aimed at the doll. Now sitting upright. Eyes locked on me. “I miss Daddy,” it repeated. And before I could react, it let out a low hiss and collapsed again, lifeless. But beneath it—a dark stain was spreading on the floor. Blood.