I see absolutely everything. Except for the things I miss. I sometimes miss the big things.
The beast was clearly dead, beached, rocking gently with the undulations of the sea. I approached for a closer look. Her countenance was passive, nonthreatening; in stark contrast to her still bared teeth that were menacing, razor sharp needles designed for sudden and horrible annihilation.
Her eyes, her eyes were as big as a man. I leaned in close, hoping to glimpse her spirit, to no avail. They were glazed and clouded, blinded by death.
As I searched there for a spark, she blinked.
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 