Woman With Violet Eyes Novels & Stories

Ella said, grabbing me like there were terrible repercussions for letting go. “I’m sure you’ll like her when you get to know her.” I hugged her, rubbing her back, trying to comfort and assure her. I wondered why Ella felt that way towards Violetta. Not only was she her mother’s sister, she was a spitting image of Helen and in fact a beautiful woman. I had seen Helen’s pictures and she and Violetta shared the same brown bouncy hair, fair and smooth skin, pointed nose, slender structure and pink lips. The only noticeable difference between them was Violetta’s ocean blue eyes that substituted for the hazel eyes Helen had—the same one Ella had.

Zinnia patiently stood there silently and waited for them to make a move. “Are you mute?” the Miss Violet angrily said. “Do you have business with me? If not then I shall take my leave, no if you excuse me.” she calmly said while looking at the woman straight in the eye. After seeing her put up a strong font, Violet used her hand to cover her mouth and disdainfully looked at Zinnia while letting out a small mocking laugh. “Interesting, restrain her.” she ordered while waving her hand at the other ladies who turned out to be just her lackeys.

Elise asked but Violet shook her head. “ Valdosta is supposed to make him break that covenant or turn him into a mind control zombie. She is also a world class hypnotist too. She is really good at what she does and she should not be underestimated at all.” violet explained and the both of them nodded. But before Bianca could launch into her own findings, a woman dressed in a purple hood and a hat made with webs and cotton walked into the restaurant attracting their attention. She began stumbling and walking into people making people to leave the road for her and before they could say jack.

My eyes were already blurred with tears, locked onto the woman stepping inside. She was wearing a doctor's robe as she walked in holding a medical box. Her hair was neatly pinned up like a model, not a strand out of place. A soft breeze followed her in the cell as she stepped inside, growing a strange sense of calm in my mind. She stared at my drowning eyes, her eyes trembled a bit seeing my condition. “Poor thing…” I heard her murmur under her breath. Then, she stepped closer, standing in front of me. “I’m Doctor Violet. I’m here for a quick checkup.”

He looked forwards, and from the grass a girl grew. She had emotional eyes. The rest of her was blurred out, like a memory that you couldn’t quite recall; it waned, year after year, a photograph fading with age. Her eye colour wasn’t clear, even; she was painted in sepia tones, but her gaze betrayed courage, and anger, and devotion. I knew who she was. It was Violet. Samyak stood in slow motion, pushing me away as he did so. I fell, but I kept my eyes on their interaction. I didn’t notice that I never hit the ground.

Then sat me up on a chair in front of a mirror. And for the first time in a long time, I get to see myself. It was a pale young girl with a big dark circle under her dark eyes as if she hasn't slept for days. Her collar bones stick out from her loose white dress. She was sitting there in front of me with a blank stare. Soulless, like a doll, a haunted doll. Even I have a difficult time recognizing her. Is THAT how I look like? "Don't worry about that," one of the ladies comforts me. I have never seen her before, but she has a pair of lovely green gelatine-like eyes. So let's call her 'gelatine eyes lady' for now.

She looked at the laughing ones. Then she noticed something new. On the wall near the kitchen doorway — a photograph she hadn’t seen last December. She crossed to it. Looked. It was her. She was at the kitchen window. Looking at the mountain. Her profile. Her hand on the sill. She hadn’t known anyone was taking it. She turned. Amara was watching her from the kitchen doorway. “When did you—” she started. “Christmas morning,” Amara said. “Last year. You were at the window before anyone else was awake.” She held Mia’s gaze. “You stood exactly where he used to stand.”

Violet gasped in shock and pain, feeling the sting in her ass as the woman grabbed and pressed her buttocks. "It's soft," she commented, turning Violet around to look at her and even touching her breasts. "They are also soft and weird. It's almost as if they are getting ready to produce milk. Damn, this girl is fertile; she is a real gem," the woman concluded, causing Violet to take a step away from her. "I have seen enough. We will come to get her in a month's time. My husband is still out of the country right now," the woman said, and with that, she sashayed to the door, her bodyguard assisting her as they left the room.

MERRIN’S POV The room was quiet. Too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The suffocating kind. The only sound was the slow crackle of the fireplace and the faint whisper of paper trembling in my hands. I stared at the wedding photograph. Violet stood beside me in white. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders like fire against snow. Her eyes were luminous. Alive. Hopeful. She wasn’t smiling at the crown. She wasn’t smiling at the throne.

And she was standing in the center of my room. The woman was tall. Taller than me by several inches, with a frame that moved between delicate and dangerous depending on which second you looked. Her hair was black, the kind that absorbed light rather than reflecting it, falling in heavy waves past her shoulders like ink poured over marble. Her skin was ivory pale, almost luminous in the moonlight, and her features were sharp enough to cut. High cheekbones. A jaw that tapered to a pointed chin. Lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried the architecture of one. Her eyes were the color of a bruise. Deep violet, shot through with threads of silver that caught the moonlight an