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Identity (standard:other, 1052 words) | |||
Author: Zaph Karinth | Added: Jun 09 2002 | Views/Reads: 3301/2069 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
This story is kind of an experiment...I was pondering what makes up a person's identity. What can people tell from one's appearance? If someone were to look at me, what could they know about me or my life? Everything written here is true. | |||
Identity By Zaph Karinth (Note: This is by no means finished! Also, sorry the paragraphs aren't indented. I'm not sure how to do that with this submission thingy... ^_^o) He gazed down at her face. Her eyes, closed, looked heavier than as if they were just in midblink. As if she were sleeping. He listened to hear the soft tell-tale breathing, turning his head just slightly. He was not sure why he did so, why he was there. He did not know her, nor anyone who did. Her head was turned a quarter to the left, as if she were looking straight at him. His eyes searched the contours of her face, and he imagined he could see into every pore and crack of skin. What would he find if he could? His eyes rested on her mouth. Her lips small but full. The pink skin seemed darker than his own. Or was that just because she was so pale? He saw no tan lines on her arms or neck. She must rarely see the sun. He almost did not notice the tiny scar on her chin, even whiter than the rest of her face. - - - Her father looked over his shoulder, his arms up to the elbows in soapy water in the sink. She was sitting on the linoleum floor not more than six feet away, exploring the cavernous cupboard under the stove and examining its contents. So far her finds were substantial, both in mass and interest to her mind that had began its task of understanding life no more than a year ago. The lid of a pressure cooker. A saucepan. A strainer. She dragged each discovery to the floor in front of her and inspected it carefully with a smile at each new thing. Her father returned the smile, though she had not looked at him, and he turned back to the sink. When the largest discoveries had been unearthed from the dark cupboard, her eager and inquisitive hands went searching into the deeper corners that she could not see. Her eyes glittered when their expedition did not fail to be rewarding, and her hands clasped around two cold and smooth objects. After drawing them out into the light, she marveled at the colors on the labels of the glass bottles, and took delight in the unbalanced weight the liquid inside gave to them. Her father's back was still turned to her, the bottles, and the glaring skull and crossbones that each one bore. She gazed at each small bottle in turn, one in each of her tiny hands, as if weighing them. She knew not what they were for, what they contained, or why they looked so shiny in the kitchen light, but she did know that glass made pleasant clinking noises at dinner when her parents raised their glasses to their happiness and family. With one swift movement, she drew both bottles to each other at a speed that surprised even her. Her father glanced over his shoulder, managing to witness the exact moment of the collision. Glass and liquid exploded everywhere with a resounding boom. Shards pierced any skin not covered by her clothing. Her hands were covered in blood and sparkling glass, and a single crystal triangle jutted from below her lips. - - - His eyes were distracted from the scar by a strand of hair, blown carelessly by a breeze from the open window a few paces away. He followed the strand with his stare, continuing to the rest of her straight, plain, dark blonde hair. It was parted straight down the middle, each side a dark golden sea filling the pillow she rested on. It fell to her shoulders. Maybe further if she were standing. - - - Coming to school that day was exciting. She felt the back of her head, half expecting resistance, but nothing stopped her fingers from feeling the back of her neck and the short, even hair that remained. The surprise of not having the extra weight from her head to the small of Click here to read the rest of this story (43 more lines)
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