My eyes, they lost their sight in the darkness; the sadness of never see my beautiful world again never occurred to me... back then. It was the things I saw, thought I saw or heard; never knowing if it was real or if I was crazy at the age of five.
I wanted to see my hand again, my hand, not the hand that was so close to my body that at any moment could turn on me and be in someone elses control. I wanted someone and nobody there at the same time. Someone there so I could feel safe and nobody there so my mind wouldn't change their faces... into the Faceless... then into the Souless. I would lay there for hours staring at either the black void in my room; praying to survive the night; or staring at the only source of light there; the window. I would think and imagine that I could pull the sun up with my bare hands and keep it there as a night light. I could do it in my mind, but nowhere else. Years later I learned that my imagination was a enemy in disguise and the window I used as salvation was creating the Faceless.
I would see the shadows move....the shadows that were made by the moon. The shadows would take form; form a head without a face, a body without a soul, a voice that spoke without a breath . Was it my imagination or was it real? That...I didn't know... what I did know was that I was scared of what was in the dark....and I still am....
Commendable work. I would just add an inhuman or dystopian future world aspect to a continuation, assuming you will continue the story.
Well done, it has an aura of mystery that intrigued me. I think you are a very good writer if this is the type of work you normally do. Keep up the excellant work. If you wouldnt mind would you take a look at my new piece Lurking Shadows? I think you'd take a likeing to it.
Also if you could comment that would be great, because I really appreciate my fellow writers' constructive criticism or feedback.