Random Scribbles · writing

Windows to the Soul


Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham
Photo courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham

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.


13 thoughts on “Windows to the Soul

  1. I thought the same thing as Joy.,..it reminded me of a movie I saw of a beached whale that the islanders thought dead and they had to push it back to sea. Great story!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I think she ought to get out of there as quickly as she can! Those sharp teeth make me rather nervous and I somehow get the feeling she’s been lured closer… Great story. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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