Novel & Cerita Man Without Eyes

The man also bowed gracefully "I made everyone wait, I'm sorry." About six feet tall, with white skin which suggested minimal exposure to the sun, Anglo-Saxon features and well-groomed purple hair. His eyes denoted his inorganic nature, being cybernetic devices similar to futuristic eyes that released a faint dark purple glow. He felt as if his eyes were capable of seeing much more than the mere human eye is capable of.

When the image of Hande with her backpack and hat on her head appeared on the screen, she was the target of a few curious glances. When Kerem saw Hande with one hand in his pocket and the other on the glass screen, he turned his gaze to Hande for a moment. His haughty gaze was present even when he was at work! No matter how much he laughed and posed beautifully for the screen, he was proud! Now he was watching himself on the screen, feeling the same upright posture and proud, though unseen, eyes.

Too much blood soaking his clothes and the cobblestones of the alley. The man glanced up, and the right side of his face was a mass of blood, one eye missing. It was all Rhychard could do to keep from vomiting. The man's lone eye was a deep ocean blue and shaped like a cat's eye, the pupil a narrow slit. He looked into Rhychard's face, his own a mask of confusion. "You're human?" Rhychard nodded. Obviously, the man was so far gone his brain had locked him into character. "Yeah, I'm human. Now, we have to get you to a hospital."

He let out a grunt of pain as another man pulled the cloth off his face. His face was beaten to hell, evidence that this wasn't an easy capture. His eyes wandered over the group until they landed on me. No fear in them. Just hate, bitterness—and amusement. —A whole battalion for one man —he sneered, grinning. —I don't take chances —I replied in a neutral tone. —Killing your own mother… didn't see that one coming —he laughed. —Didn't have to lift a finger. She did all the work herself.

Strangely, the wound on my palm suddenly dried up and the scar disappeared. When I realized that, I accidentally saw the man’s eyes glow red. It only lasted for a moment, before they returned to their beautiful caramel brown color. He was… not a human?

Not the clean, beautiful white of the snow—no, this was a milky, deathly white. Next, his face became clearer, revealing a pair of thick lips, a broad, flat nose and no eyebrows at all. His eyes were closed, but his eyelids were so pale Leesa could almost see through them. She tried to pull her gaze away from his hideous face, but found she was unable to move her head. Suddenly, the man’s eyes shot open. Leesa gasped. His eyes were without eyeballs—no iris, no pupil, nothing. Just a flat, pinkish film. Despite the empty eyes, Leesa was certain the man could see. She shuddered.

He laughed as I looked around his men who were hollering with him. “I want to speak to your boss alone.” The man looked up at me. One of his eyes had a claw mark which had blinded him permanently in his left eye, but his right eye held years and years of experience of killing. They were darkened by the souls of the people he had taken. He then looked at his people and nodded. “You all can go. I’ll talk to the woman.” They hesitated, but then agreed to what their master had said. I then sat down beside him as he turned to me.

He looked almost lifeless, his face had different burn marks on it and his back seemed to have been flogged with whips that had sharp edges at the ends. I looked over the picture, quickly noting that something was still intact on the man's body. **You missed something though** Within seconds he replied. **Where?** **His eyes have a certain fire I don't like in them, take them out. Here's the fun part, do it one at a time. That way he can see his eye before he completely loses his sight. That will break any strong man.** Send. **Brilliant.** A text back from Vince said, I smiled as I received it and dropped my phone yo let the man work.

​He nodded toward the far end of the marble ballroom, near the balcony that overlooked the darkened city. ​A man stood there, completely still amidst the dancing crowd. He wore a suit of bone-white linen that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. He was unnervingly thin, his skin so pale it was almost translucent, revealing the faint, grey network of veins beneath. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath—they were a flat, milky white, devoid of pupils, as if he were looking at a world we couldn't see.