Ami And Lexis: A Narrative Fiction

She stares at herself in the mirror, examining every self inflicted scar from picking scabs. Her skin tone is grey and dull. Her hair has gotten oily and unkempt. She stopped caring about her looks and was not aware of it. There are age spots on her face that seem to have appeared over night. She touches her face and strokes the bags under her eyes with her finger tips. She looks now at what used to be a beautiful smile and cannot believe that her teeth have decayed, they are almost gone. It saddens her and she looks away. She feels ashamed of what she has become. She looks back at the mirror only to be looking into her eyes. With a hoarse voice she utters the words, “How did this happen?”

As she made her way deeper into the ballroom, she saw a regal woman standing in the corner with a teenage girl. Their stunning green ballroom dresses were identical to each other, their hair was even done in the same way. The woman was gripping the girl’s arm tightly, an obvious look of pain and discomfort on the girl’s face. Rowena tried to eavesdrop on what they were conversing about, but could only pick on the urgent whisper of the woman. Rowena stood there deep in thought, not able to figure out who the random girl was and why the woman was grabbing her. The woman’s eyes flashed over towards Rowena, connecting with hers. Rowena felt a wave of deja vu wash over her entire body. She could never forget those eyes. Even though she saw them

She grabbed a white gown and as she pulled it around herself, she also noticed that it had the same inscription over the breast. She dashed out of the bathroom, wondering what the hell had happened at the party. What if some psycho had taken advantage of the fact that she was drunk and kidnapped her? At least she knew that if it had happened, he had not yet had sex with her. She looked around the room and spotted her clothes folded neatly in the closet but her handbag and cell phone were nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the suite, she could smell the scent of fresh coffee and eggs cooking. Her abductor was probably getting himself well fed before he came to rape her. She felt a shiver running down her spine as she tiptoed her way out of the room into what was a living room. A sound in one of the adjoining rooms caught her attention and she decided that it must be the kitchen where the guy was busy preparing himself breakfast. What if they were many and they all intended to take turns on her? No, she could not let such thoughts ran through her mind, and besides, Beth would never have let such a thing happen to her.

The castle casted a shadow almost darker than myself. Torches lit the quad with their warm, orange glow. Though I couldn't feel the heat that they projected. I walked through the walls and into this strange palace. This Prince Prospero certainly didn't spare any expense when he was built this castle. When Prospero created this sanctuary, this hideout in order to lock himself and all of his dames and knights from the dying outside world he allotted for every pleasure imaginable. There were courtiers sashing through the crowds, ballet dancer, musicians, beauty and all the wine once could drink. His guests were oblivious to me, they were oblivious to danger as they chatted

When he tossed the discarded wipes in the bin, he caught sight of his bruised wrists, and he stared at the fading contusions for a moment before rolling down his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs, effectively hiding his shame. He covered his bloodstained T-shirt behind his buttoned shirt, and feeling slightly less disheveled, he once again stared at himself in the mirror. His ghostly image gazed back; empty, devoid, the haunting apparition a mocking caricature of what a twenty-three-year-old man should look like. But it was not a shock, it was the visage he’d lived with for nearly twelve years, and it was as familiar to him as his own voice. He was what he was, and he accepted

In that moment, Joan recognized the castle was truly a magnificent and awe-inspiring place. It was the heart of Camelot, her city, and she loved it. Joan also wondered when she’d begun viewing Camelot as her own city and beloved home. It must have been something that had come upon her gradually, because she couldn’t recall a specific day when she considered Camelot “home.”

A bolt of lightning ripped the sky in half, and rain began to pound on the carriage roof. Mud coated the road as thick clouds loomed over England. Violent winds lashed their hands at the carriage while it bounced its way to Windsor Castle. Xina breathed in the brisk air, her heart dancing with anticipation. Her lips twisted into a devilish sneer; of all the missions an assassin could have, this was by far the easiest

I sigh, staring at the light flooding in from the cracks and crevices in the ceiling. The light gave a gentle hue of gold, making the room I’m sitting in seem cozy. One question lingers in my mind, how long have I’ve been here, sitting on this old, rigid wooden stool, in the middle of this room? I get up from the stool, twiddling my thumbs and trying not to vomit from the knots forming in my stomach. I walk over to the shattered mirror that stands to my left. I stare at my reflection, but I don’t see myself. I see some girl, with long silky blonde hair that flows to her shoulder, she stands there with her long and scrawny frame. However, where her face should look gentle and beautiful is a face etched with terror. That girl was trembling and twiddling her thumbs, that girl was me.

I’m not entirely sure what attracted my attention to the mirror on the wall. I’m not saying that if I hadn’t seen my reflection on that fateful morning that things would have gone differently in the end. All I know is that until the day I die, I will never sleep again. In revealing the mystery behind the final hours of Lilith’s life, the old, cracked mirror that has hung in my bedroom for as long as I can remember made one thing perfectly clear. I, a simple sketch artist, had killed the only love I will ever know.

Despite the fact, she had her face heavily made up or “fleeky” in her own words, her beauty captivated anyone: family, friends, suitors, strangers. She had an air the way she sashayed into the dorm’s steps, hair swaying side to side, attracting the eyes of passers by.

I watched the rise and fall of her soul’s flesh housing. She is everything. My mind numbed. A sudden sensation of impulse took over; a steady senselessness travelled up my extremities while my hand, seeming to act on its own accord, caressed Arabella’s cheek. My heart came to a slow cadence, my body shattering with every beat that echoed in my chest. Shaky fingers found their way to her lips. She exhaled once. Lashes fluttered open slowly, her mind coming back to its vessel and suddenly fleeing upon a fluctuation in feelings and confusion as Arabella’s brown eyes connected with my

For Elodie Kendrick, Princess of Zelnon, the castle was both a prison and a refuge. From the moment she was born, it had been her home, and the one place she should have been comfortable. That

As I stood motionless in front of the vast mirror, I am entranced by its resemblance to an undisturbed lake. The comparison created a unique elegance about it that one would notice with just a glance. Studying the details of the mirror from the frame to what it captured on the inside, I suddenly spotted a young woman. She had not been there when I began to admire the mirrors imperfect beauty. This intrigued my curiosity as I began to examine the mystery person. By just looking at her I could tell she had a special type of confidence wrapped around her, the type a person can only find when they embrace what makes them who they are. Her skin tone held a hint of gold that complemented her thick dark hair, which ran to her waist in harmonizing curls and waves. The one thing I could not decipher is her ethnicity; anyone who quickly gazed at her would think she was maybe Hispanic or possibly Hawaiian. As I looked deeper into her facial features, I saw through common perception and see that she has a lot more to her than most realize. With every new detail she became more familiar, and was certain I had seen glimpses of her my whole life. In that moment when our eyes met, the mystery about her in the beginning turned into enlightenment. The person reflected within her bright brown eyes was me.

As soon as her eyes met the mirror she swore she looked like the walking dead. She had rushed out of the house this morning after a rough start of the day. Her alarm hadn’t gone off causing her to wake up 30 minutes later than she had wanted to, but at least she had woken up. And then her son did not want to change out of his pajamas and leave the house, so her make-up and hair weren’t exactly the last things on her mind. And of course the clip that was keeping her hair in semi decent form had broken mid-morning causing her locks to go everywhere.

The forest was even more beautiful than her Central Park, Jackie thought as she walked past a crystal clear stream. The path began to widen and there she found a castle of epic proportions. The doors must have been 50 feet tall. Jackie wondered what kind of creature would live in such a large building. She made her way forward, the air began to fill with the most wonderful smells. Jackie thought she smelled fresh baked bread and roasted chicken, and her stomach growled. She walked straight to the front door and slipped in through a large crack in the wood of the