Pale Blue Eyes By The Velvet Underground Novels & Stories

hoping to see my mother for some last-minute counsel. Rather, my childhood friend Clara crept in. Her face was pallid, and something that made my stomach turn had taken the place of her normally happy look. "Ivy," she wrung her hands and whispered. "There are rumors... whispers among the pack..." "What rumors?" My voice was sharper than I meant when I asked. Unease pricked at the back of my neck. Clara refused to look at me. "They claim that there is another person. Another blue-haired girl who says—"

I saw myself at the edge of nowhere beneath a very odd tree. White leaves were falling from it that gave me an eerie sensation. I was like inside a 90's television. Everything was in black and white. My gaze landed on the guy beside me. At that moment, I realized that I was not alone. Everything has no color except me and him. It felt weird especially when he touched my cheek softly and I felt the warmth of his hand. I was lying on the grass with him, captivated by his peculiar eyes. Those pair of eyes were green as emerald stones, fascinating and deep as if it can pierce through my soul. I can’t take my eyes off him.

She frowned, and put her head down on the table, and closed her eyes for a moment. Dimitri and Pete walked through the door, Pete went to work on the soup, Ivan whispered to Dimitri about her arms. He looked over but said nothing. Pete cleared this throat, and Jade looked up. Her eyes a pale gray, almost white startled him he dropped the bowl of soup shattering the bowl when it hit the ground. He broke his stare, and grabbed a cloth, “My apologies you're eyes aren't as gray as they used to be. It’s almost a pale white,” he whispered.

Midnight, twelve o'clock. The private club "The Vault" in downtown Seattle. This place was the social ground for the top circle, membership-based, with extremely high privacy. There was no ear-splitting electronic music, only a top jazz band humming softly, the sound of the cello flowing slowly in the air, yet it couldn't soothe the irritability in William's heart. William sat in the corner booth, his slender fingers playing with an empty wine glass, his expression lazy, but his eyes revealing an indescribable boredom.

Then his weight settled over mine. His forehead rested against mine. His breathing still uneven. He remained inside me for a moment, as if unwilling to break the connection. When he finally withdrew, he did so slowly. He looked down at me. In his eyes there wasn't only desire. "Crystal." He said my name like someone delivering a warning—like something he had tried to save but hadn't been heard. He said it as if I had just fallen into something too deep to climb out of.

stepped out of the lead vehicle and entered the room like a ghost. They all stood. One of the men, older, scarred, asked, “You said you wouldn’t call on us unless the time came.” Vale Sr. removed his gloves and unrolled a blueprint across the table. The title read: Project Revenant. “This time,” he said, his voice quiet and lethal, “we don’t just kill the Marchesis.” He pointed at the last page. “We kill the world that remembers them.”

She nodded her own pain in her eyes. "He will tell you she has the most beautiful French violet eyes, like an endless whirling pool of cyan cornflower blue shading and faint Mikado yellow highlights. At first, you'll think it's brownish gold, but when you look closer, you'll see that it is actually Mikado yellow. When that time comes, he will make you feel like shit, a worthless piece of shit." "I don't think I will ever feel that," I smiled as tears rolled over my lips.

I grabbed the huge canvas and my paints without bothering to tie my hair up. Colors collided on the canvas, raw and wild. Rage mixed with sorrow, bleeding into every stroke—red for the fury in the background, black for the emptiness, lines in the red, white for the hollow ache blending with the blue, brown for the weight of it all. But...Blue surged, sharp and piercing, until his image actually emerged. Not the man himself, but his eyes. Those cruel, calculating blue eyes that knew exactly how to lie. The image spoke...as if it was actually him on the other side—laughing at me, cruelly.

And besides you didn't do anything Derek : I would have, if Belinda didn't intervene Blue : ohhh, well thank goodness she did Derek : so are we good now? Blue : yes Derek : do me a favor Blue : okay Derek : close your eyes Blue : huh? Derek : just do it She obediently did so Derek : open.......... TADAAA! Blue : jeez! Sir Derek Derek : do you like it Blue : I love it Derek : I knew the blue maid with the blue eyes will like the blue flowers Blue smiled Blue : are they from your garden? Derek : yes. I always have bluebells in my garden

"What?" "What?"he repeated. "What?!" "What?" "What are you doing?" "What are you doing?"he stared at me with his deep blue eyes, almost drilling a hole in my soul. He looked excruciatingly handsome in his and turtle neck sweater. His pink lips were looking very soft, very kissable. I swallowed a lump that suddenly formed in my throat. For a brief moment, I imagined what it would be like to have his muscular hands on my body, to have his lips on mine.