My Original Works

Ocean

Her eyes, such a lovely shade of blue, seemed to contain the entirety of the ocean within them. Though her face tended to lack any serious expression, the soft look she gave was enough to drown you. When she was upset, she never gave off the impression that you were in trouble, rather she would give you that look that her family knew all too well; she would give that smile, lips turned ever so slightly upward as her gaze softened, filling you with her own form of dread. She wasn't angry, she wasn't sad, she was disappointed.

My, how he missed that look.

He could see it now; he'd be hunched over his writing desk until the crack of dawn, ideas for new novels swirling through his mind a mile a minute. The door would creak open as she stepped inside, the soft clunk showing that she was inside. When his head would pick itself up from the countless number of papers that littered his workspace, he would see it. He would see her. Her eyes alone would make him feel so guilty, the soft smile urging him to put his work on hold so he could go and rest by her side.

He missed her.

She was taken far too soon; she was ambushed, the men appearing from nowhere as they ganged up on her, overpowering her and doing her in for good. She did the best she could to fend for herself but it seemed that the more she fought the more men that appeared before those pooling orbs.

It wasn't fair.

He was left to raise three children on his own, the youngest daughter looking up to him with the same blue eyes her mother held as she sobbed and asked for the umpteenth time where her mother was. He would force a smile, a smile that was nowhere near as comforting as hers, and place his hands on her small, feeble shoulders as he told her that everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. Everything is okay.

Is it?

He sat hunched over the desk, his hand mindlessly dragging his pen across the paper to form some sentence that made zero sense. His eyelids sagged, the bags under his eyes grew darker with each passing day, and his face was reddened and puffy from the tears he hid from his children. He read over the paper before clicking his pen, moving to head off to bed on his own.

"I love you."