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Rated: E · Short Story · Other · #1616400
Every once in a while, the eyes would flash
The eyes are said to be the windows to the soul. It sure felt like that as he sat and stared into the eyes behind the glass. The eyes had long, slender eyelashes that curled up gently and framed the eyes perfectly. He figured that the eyes belonged to a woman because they had some sort of shimmer, like eye shadow. It wasn’t any particular colour, it just sort of shimmered. It was almost like a rainbow, one second it was glittering blue, and then it was green, then red and purple. The irises themselves were a bright green, slightly darker around the rims, then a vibrant, lively green. Every once in a while, the eyes would flash. Almost like they were trying to tell him something; trying to get a message across. He couldn’t understand, he tried so hard but he just couldn’t fathom what she, what the eyes were trying to tell him. And then he realized they weren’t trying to tell him anything. The eyes were asking him, asking him to get her out. Out of the box and out of the glass. Out, and away from her cage.

So he did.

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