Look through someone elses eyes for a piece of love
Ok world I’m taking a stab at this and if it doesn’t work out sorry but that’s it for me ok?... don’t be nice I don’t want fluffiness like “oh good job” or anything just tell me the honest truth and what I need to fix and ill be on my way. Ps. Hope I don’t sound like a ass but I consider myself a author and if I only get “good jobs” then how do I know when I truly suck?
Beauty is an illusion
They wondered out into the warm summer’s air. A young handsome man stared up taking a moment from the hectic city life to enjoy a moment of blitz. Pink streaked across a blue and grey sky. The sky itself was falling into a gentle sleep. The world was changing every minute of every day. As the sun set over cement giants, the city guardians, he wondered how someone could miss it. The simple pleasures in life. Seeing a sun set through someone else’s eyes. The poetry that is our life giving cycle. He turned away shutting out the thoughts of his mind to drift back into “reality”. A tug at his arm brought his attention back to this world.
A beautiful brunette girl in a short black skirt and black silk shirt smiled back at him. Her nails, lips and eyes were decorated in dark gothic tones. Add a diamond on her wrist and she could have been a model. She had the most angelic face, lush dark lips, and eyes contrasting her pale skin. She moved like a feather, confident flowing strides that were just fast enough to make you take an extra step to catch up. And completely taken.
His smile grew looking at her small hand carefully wrapped around his upper arm. As most girls were these days, she thought she was ugly. Fat or too boney on spots, anything the mirror lied to her she believed. She looked up just then, while he was just drifting back to that mind pattern of ‘this is how my world looks’. “what are you thinking about?” such a hard question, do I tell her, her eyes and how they seem to stare into my soul knowing my every secret, do I say how much I wonder how those pouty lips taste like summer berries in the sun. He improvised and shrugged keeping the secret thoughts to the better parts of himself. She batted his arm and moved her hand down to around his hips grabbing on a belt loop of his jeans.
This world is so beautiful how can something like this be real. And why can only a select few see it? He moved his arm to around her shoulders pulling her close enough to make their hips bump as they walked. His life had been an absolute terror for as long as he remebered. From childhood memories that never seemed to leave his troubled mind to teenage years of experimenting with life to this.
They left the bar far before their normal midnight curfew. It wasn’t parents telling them to come home anymore. Responsibility was just growing as they aged. He woke early in the morning for another day of searching for work. She had art classes and sold pottery for rent. They had a life. An almost perfect life together. It was a modern day tragedy what happened next.
At nearly five pm a knock came from the front door. The sun was doing a return performance of last night, ducking under the clouds to illuminate them in that mystic fashion it always seemed to do. Peter got off of the sofa. Pushing himself up with tired muscles. He wondered to the door taking his time as the knocking grew more impatient. “Hold on” he grumbled to himself and unlocked the dead bolt and chain swinging the door wide and rubbing his eyes. A man with longish curly hair stood before him. Some model stood outside. A band tee and ripped jeans clad his perfectly shaped muscles. He stared at peter lifting an eye then reading the small strip of paper with their address on it. “This is apartment 13 right?” Pete grumbled letting him in. “if you’re here about the ad, yeah, she’s in the studio, second door on the left.” The man stepped in letting the door be locked and chained behind him. Pete saw him hesitate and shook his head walking down the hall to the second door and knocking. “What sweetie?”
“The guy that called earlier is here”. He stepped back as she walked out. Baggy sweats and a thin strapped shirt splattered with paint. She gave him a quick kiss and turned to the man. “You’re interested in my stary night?” The man nodded fallowing her as she walked back inside the room. It was originally the master bedroom but soon became a studio since her paintings took up so much space. She lifted a sheet off the painting, a mesmerizing copy of the Van Gogh piece. Some changes done to the buyers specifications. A black light was propped over her easel and as it was flicked on the scean turned from a hillside of stars into a brilliant picture. The wind itself was painted in a way only she could. The buyer reached into his pocket pulling out a check and handed it over his mouth gaping open. He admired the piece of art as she read over making sure it wasn’t another fake check. Hey if it’s happened before you get a bit paranoid. “Well thank you very much Mr.…” she stared at the check “Beckett”. He flicked the light on and off a few times not believing how much time must have gone into it. “Thank you, this is really amazing.” Pete rolled his eyes walking back to the living room and picking up the latest issue of Blender. Huh three bands seemed to have taken over the entire list section, best new album, best new song, most wanted to see in concert. It was like some plague was affecting everyone’s judgment these days.
A few minutes latter Mr. Beckett was leaving and he got up to unlock and relock the doors. His angel came over sitting next to him on the sofa paint still streaked across her forehead and cheek. He reached over rubbing at it and she blushed taking off quickly to wash up.
Author note: yes I have a lot of these because I'm strange like that. So I obviously have no clue what to call our lead female any suggestions?... I’m partially fond of missy because she gave me my first review for this genre fanfics so if you want it missy… its yours.