Take a look

Take a look

A Story by Ray
"

They’re different. There’s no denying it. Yet, there no way I cannot fall in love with them. And all of them.

"

When you take a look at their faces, your heart is broken in two. They’re different. There’s no denying it. Yet, there no way I cannot fall in love with them. And all of them. They have this sad air about them, the presence of a long and tormented past. The kind of things you would never dream of experiencing. The kind of thing, that if it were to happen to you, you would consider ending your days. It would be less painful. It would be better. But when I look at them, and I see how they have gone through it all and are still living, what more reason have I to take away what’s most precious, a life ? They have these dark eyes, and sometimes these striking blue or green colors. The eyes are sunken but big and wide. There appears to be circles about. Heavy rims. The bottom lip quivers, and yet, there seems to be a smile there. A sad one perhaps, but one nonetheless. You can notice it. It’s just there, when you think that there’s not any. If you take a look at the corners, you’ll see : they’re slightly upturned.

            Looking at their faces is one thing. When you look at their bodies, you’ve shrunk to nothing. How can anyone survive on what has visibly been eating very little? There is the breast which should be curved and smooth and soft which is hard, and angular, the bones strutting out. The thin layer of grease that should be on their ribs is not there at all. It’s gone. They’re jagged, jutting out. It’s ugly. Ugly to set your eyes on them. Ugly when no one reacts, just stares at them. So what can I do ? I’m one in seven billions. I cannot make a difference for them. But maybe, just maybe. So I reach out with my hands, and there’s a new light in their eyes, as they see in it something that I cannot see.

            Mama said a long time ago that I had a gift. I cannot remember the name of it, but perhaps that is irrelevant. It was in reference to my character. She often said things. And they were nothing. I understand how ‘thing’ and ‘nothing’ cannot go together. Yet, it was the way it was. She said nothing of things. Or she said things and at the same time said nothing. How to play with words can be fun. But not when there are important things at hand. So Mama said a while ago that I had a gift. I should try to remember it, for it would not be fair to spell it out and yet not explain it. It ran something along the lines of feelings, or of an ability. My aptitude was it ? I think she said I had a gift at being the best. Why, this would explain why they looked at me in such a way. Nevertheless, I cannot see that it it the right answer. For I can see that I have a gift at being the best. So it cannot be admiration on their faces, I would recognize it.

            Mama was right. I’m intelligent too. So why not use this intelligence to understand the look in their eyes ? It’s something I’ve never seen in my life. Something I cannot understand. Only ones like them can understand. Clever she said. But perhaps that is as irrelevent as being the best. What qualities did Mama give me ? Ambitious, perseverant, humble…It must be humble. They admire me for my humbleness. The light in their eyes reflect my face because the lowered individual shall be raised at the last day, shall it not be so?

            But there’s something wrong. There’s something that cannot be right. So extending my hand in such a way as I have done, I finally take a look at myself in these brown eyes that stare at me with hope. They’re beautiful eyes, I think. They all have souls that are too innocent to have lived in these atrocities, I think. I cannot think villainous thoughts. I am appalled by the state of what stands before me. So I took a look in their eyes. And there, I find an image of myself. I take a step forward and I cannot believe what I see there. They shuffle hesitantly but taking a good look at me. Brilliant but tired.

            I take a look at my eyes, at my hair, at my mouth and nose. Take in all the perfect and imperfect qualities of the face. Admitting to the faultiness of it is easy but I realize there is only perfection, and that I see defects only because I have a deformed view. So I take a step back, and look at them anew. The look that was on my face was one my Mama said I always had. A look of kindness. A look of beauty. Something that no one can see if they don’t know me. But I see them, and I know they’ve got beauty. Everyone does. Everyone is kind and makes a difference, one of seven billions or not. Take a look in their eyes too.

© 2013 Ray


Author's Note

Ray
hey guys ! haven't been on for a long time due to so much work but i miss writing by stories and so on sooooo much, and i was thinking about how unfair life it to people-and animals-. I was actually reading stuff on poverty and on mistreated animals as well, and I wanted to combine everything into one. It's not edited AT ALL. so I haven't read over it at all - i don't want to change it for now, just to see how you think my "natural" writing is. this is really something from the heart - though the I doesn't have to be me etc. I really hope it makes sense and you enjoy. of course, if you think of any way to improve it, tell me =)

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register




Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

283 Views
Added on November 14, 2013
Last Updated on November 14, 2013

Author

Ray
Ray

About
"Let us remember: one book, one pen, one child, and one teacher can change the world." - Malala Yousafzai "To hold a pen is to be at war." - Voltaire "The pen is mightier than the sword." - E.. more..

Writing
Being Being

A Poem by Ray


The Wind The Wind

A Story by Ray


Shadow Shadow

A Poem by Ray