Peaky Blinders Photo Novels & Stories

The doctor asked me as I laid on my back on the bed. I nodded my head and searched for Jake hands, he wasn't far from me so I took his hands in mine in a form of support strength. "What do you see." The doctor asked me. He was standing on my left side. "I can only see darkness but sometimes light flashes through my eyes." I nervously replied. I started experiencing the flashes of light when I was eleven years but I kept it to my self today that I was asked. All this while my eyes where tightly closed.

Will she be able to triumph over principalities? This is the story of The Blind Luna. ★★★ Annaliese Dayton is an eighteen year old blind shewolf from Clear Waters pack. Born to the delta, the third in command of the pack, she is the second child and the only girl of the family. Eric Dayton, the first born is four years older than her and her being the middle child is two years older than her twin brothers, Marcus and Matthew. Her Dad, being the delta of the pack loves to brag about Eric to everyone and anyone who cares to listen.

"Oh, and about the invitation, you were talking about earlier. I will make a plan that there is no couple name or photo of us either on the invitation card or in the wedding room. Let people accept it as a new concept of modern style marriage. That's what I mean by blind wedding because the guests don't know the identity of my groom." The more he listened, the more confused Argus felt with the concept of marriage proposed by July, but he did not dare to interrupt the explanation of the woman he loved so much. Seeing her who was so excited about planning their wedding at this time, automatically made a smile on his face shine brightly. Never had he felt this happy, staring intently at every p

A painting hangs beside his desk. I don’t know why it draws me in, but I find myself walking closer. Thick strokes of midnight blue and charcoal gray layer the canvas. In the center — barely visible unless you truly look — a thin streak of gold cuts through the darkness. Not bright. Not loud. Just there. A quiet fracture of light. It isn’t something you glance at. It’s something you feel. My fingers almost lift to touch the textured paint. Why would a blind man choose something so visual?

Right there, impossible to miss in the flickering glow of the firelight, was the prominent, rigid outline of his semi-hard length. He was aroused. A warm, electric shockwave shot straight from Avery's chest down to her toes. Her face burned with a heat so intense she thought she might actually combust. Her gaze darted back up to his face in sheer panic, her hands frozen mid-air. He’s blind. He doesn't know I can see... that, she thought frantically, her mind spinning out of control. Or does he? Damien stood perfectly still, his expression a mask of cool composure, but the slight tightening of his jaw and the rapid pulse in his neck betrayed him.

I didn't raise my voice, but my cadence was clear and firm in this heavy silence. Turning to look at the police officers who'd gone still, I asked, "Now, officers, how would a blind person peep at anyone? He can't even tell day from night—how could he stand at a window, hold up a camera, and aim it at the bathroom across from his window to take photos?" One of the officers was stunned by my question, but he quickly snapped to his senses and gave me a grim nod. "From the looks of it, your son is indeed in the clear. A blind person can neither be a voyeur nor use a camera."

I’d walked right into another cage. My breathing quickened, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurt. I forced it steady, straining to listen over the creak of wheels and the pounding in my skull. “She’ll be worth the risk,” one man said, the tall one from the road. His voice carried that same confidence. A second voice, deeper, with an edge of nerves. “You really think the blind bastard won’t come for her? He’s a monster. Killed men for less.” "Rogues don't get opportunities like this twice. We have to take the risk.” The tall one replied, voice filled with excitement.

Most of the social media accounts on the phone were logged out, but there were numerous photos and files stored locally. He opened the photo album and began scrolling through them. There were photos of wildflowers by the roadside, oddly-shaped clouds, but more than anything, there were photos of him. From a shy profile of him during his school days to his focused expression at the shooting range, and later, to his silent figure sitting by the window in the safe house after he went blind. Every photo had been carefully saved; even blurry, poorly candid shots had been kept. A class photo from his school years was saved separately, where his figure had been circled with red ink.

Ripping open the dossier, a photo immediately caught my attention: the backdrop was the orphanage from back in the day. There stood the little blind boy in the corridor, lips pressed tight, his young face shadowed with a gravity beyond his years. My eyes drifted down to another photo: there was Bradley, sharp-suited, his gaze icy, in front of the Gilbert Group's skyscraper. I stared at the two eerily similar faces. Bradley was the little blind boy?

The war room buzzed with a tense energy, the blue light from the monitors casting shadows on the metal walls. Ava sat at the long steel table, looking focused. The table was cluttered with digital tablets, surveillance reports, and a few printed photos. However, one particular image stood out in the middle, capturing everyone's attention. Pearl, blindfolded, arms bound. Ava stood rigid before it, hands braced against the table’s edge, knuckles pale from pressure. The overhead lights glinted off her dark ponytail and the faint smudge of a healing bruise along her jaw, a reminder of a night that had nearly cost her everything.