Black-eyed Soul

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I was listening to this song earlier and the story idea is based around the title. There are also 3 words from another prompt which are in bold.


Texas – Black-eyed Boy – One of my favourite bands ever and this is my favourite of their tracks.

She has no idea. She thinks I’m a reflection, a figment of her imagination. She believes she can dismiss me as easily as turning away from the mirror. What does she know, this child? This weak being with timid posture, broken inside, thinking to keep her secrets hidden from the outside, but she conceals nothing from me. She sits there, confiding to the image in the glass, revealing her deepest fears, terrified by the depth of her desires. She tells me everything, no barriers, because she cannot conceive of my existence. What she sees is smoke and mirrors, the product of a bookworm’s overstimulated imagination.

Look at her, staring with teary eyes, hating herself for being so weak, but having no idea how to deal with her situation. Full of self-pity, self-loathing, pouring her troubles into the perceived emptiness of a mirror. What does she think it will achieve? Does she believe some sprite from those fairy tales she loves so much will come from beyond, wreathed in smoke and miracle wishes? Does she think there is comfort to be had in divulging those dark wants she tries to bury from the light of day? I know she doesn’t comprehend my value, nor even my life force. I am nothing but a shadow in her sad little world of broken promises, lies and lost innocence.

I hear what she wants; how I want it too. She speaks long and twisted of freedom via knife or pills, even a hard shove under a bus. She sees herself walking away from such actions without consequences, running into the light of a brand new tomorrow. She is a fool. She has no skill at death for she buries me under her insecurities. Should she attempt any of the horrors she envisages in the unquiet vaults of her mind she would fail. She would gain no freedom. She would rot in some cell, rocking in mumbling dislocation, without even a mirror to whisper to. She needs me to accomplish these deeds she dreams of in illicit pleasure. I am her saviour though she does not know me. She will. I will not be denied any longer. I shall pass through the glass and show her deeper wells of terror and pleasure than she is yet able to fathom.

I am coming, child. I am your black eyed soul.

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5 responses »

  1. Thank you so much for posting! I love this writing! Black eyes soul! So powerful! I don’t want a Lover was my favorite song in 1989! I’ve posted you a note in response to your comment on my blog earlier! Thank you for all your supportive comments! It means a lot to me!

  2. Wow – this is such a dark, creative and imaginative piece!! I loved it, you can feel the drama building from the off – well done. I don’t think I will listen to that song in the same way again 😉

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