Hazel Eyes

• Courtney Benke, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2017

Each stroke was like a thumbprint, never the same, always different and all have a story. The colours intertwined with each other, first meeting as strangers, to friends, lovers and finally melted as soulmates. They witnessed their lives in front of them, like the feeling you get when you walk past someone on the street and feel their soul connect with yours. The chattering of the lost souls seeking to be found. All too soon; it gets swept away. She did this for days, but never completed a single piece, it would end too soon, breaking apart at the delicate strings of the love that wasn’t there. She remembered the same hazel eyes with brown and gold flakes lingering around her memories, restrained from leaving.
She walked from her apartment towards her favourite supply shop, tracing her steps from yesterday’s evening. He was there, the same hazel eyes, she stumbled and her heart felt like a thousand bricks. Her throat scratched as she choked up and clenched her fists, too nervous to move. He noticed her and gave her the same stare. The same ‘pathetic’, ‘sorry’, ‘guilty’ stare. He couldn’t be there. Surely, he didn’t even exist anymore!
His mellifluous voice sent shocks through her mind, waking up the things she only started to forget. “Charity?” She shivered, it was ineffable to be true. She wanted to speak, wanted to cure the homesickness she felt. But, she couldn’t. She dipped her head in shame, she wasn’t going to start picking up the pieces he decided to shatter long ago. Through the window, she watched as the old lady reorganised and straightened shelves. She was zoning out until she saw in the reflection of the window, ‘hazel eyes’ behind her. She felt herself opening, she had no tears to shed as they had been long gone.
Inside the store, it felt like home, a safe haven where she could breathe properly. No more hazel eyes. No more hazel lies. The old lady forgot who she was, for the hundredth time. She bought her items, not knowing exactly what she was doing. Her conscience was taking control. Exactly 304 steps back to her door she stared at the blank wall and started to let her hand dance. Swish by swish, the colours eroded, the girl never knew where her hand went, it had a mind of its own. Colour by colour she finally finished her masterpiece. A painting that contrasted to her soul perfectly, she felt forgiveness as she finished her canvas.
“Hazel eyes..”