Author: Shizuka Ayasato PM
A collection of short and sometimes ambiguous pieces I've written off the top of my head. Originally posted on my deviantArt, mixed in with my journal entries. Now shared on Fictionpress, with all of you. Each piece has it's own individual rating and genres, but the collection is rated T as a whole, just in case.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Tragedy - Chapters: 3 - Words: 1,200 - Published: 08-29-12 - id: 3054201
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These were some random little things I wrote when I just felt like writing something...Since they were thought up on the spot, they're probably not really well thought out but well, it's fun to just relax and write something from the top of your head sometimes. These were originally posted on deviantArt, scattered around in my journal entries but I decided to post them here too. They are random short standalones, and do not have relations with other 'chapters' in this collection.
"What do you see...?"
She opens her eyes, a startling silver that immediately fades to black...
I involuntarily take a step back in surprise and she notices this. Her grip tightens on the knife she's holding and just as quick as she opened her eyes to me, she closes them and sighs.
Not wanting to get into any more trouble than I already have, I pull out my own knife and answer honestly, "I see a reflection."
"Of what?" She cocks her head to the side at an angle I didn't think possible and peers at me curiously...Almost as if I'm a mouse trapped in a corner by a cat.
I blink and reply, "Of nothing. Of black emptiness...Loneliness settling for insanity."
Her eyes dart to my knife and she comes closer still and tilts my chin up, toward her. "Of emptiness? Loneliness? Nothing? I don't think that's possible..."
She turns her back to me and walks to the other side of the room, her boots clacking against the cold stone floor, each step the step of someone so close but already gone.
Suddenly she darts toward me again at an such an alarming speed that I yelp and drop my knife. She holds her knife blade up to my face so I can see my own reflection. I look horrible, despair etched into my eyes... But of course, she's doing this just to drive the point home that...
I have the same face that she does.
"I don't think seeing nothing is possible, sister, when your face is the mirror image as mine."
I liked this one, it was rather fun to write.