GENRE: YA SF
My art teacher says the eyes are the window to the soul. Apparently, I don’t have one
I crumpled the paper and threw it against my bedroom wall. Why can I draw anyone, anything else, but I can’t draw myself? I pulled out a drawing of my mother. Maybe it would work. Her straight, auburn hair was only slightly darker than mine, and her deep blue eyes had the same shape and color, but I knew Mr. Harper would see it for the fraud that is was. Not reaching my potential, he would say.
My gaze strayed to the mirror. I smiled at my reflection, trying to force the joy that always shone in my mother’s eyes, into my own. Frustration stared back. I rubbed my eyes. Maybe one F wouldn’t affect my grade that much.
As my hands fell away, tiny points of light swam through the air around me. I blinked. They didn’t fade. In an instant, they solidified into a silvery mass, compressing my entire body, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I fought for breath, each heartbeat a struggle. I wanted to scream, to escape, but the strange mass held me, helpless and silent. My eyes rolled, burning as they rubbed against the shimmering surface. A heavy ache spread through my chest. Shadows crept in around me, a thick haze settling over my mind.
Sleep, my little Livy. The sudden, random memory of my father’s voice suppressed all thought, evaporating my resolve. One last beat of my heart, and darkness overwhelmed everything.