My Stranger

Bridgett Briggs

Black.

That’s all I know. Everywhere I look, all I see is black. From the black floors and up to the black chandelier. The only color I could see was the bright, dusty yellow twinkles in the room. It dances across the ceiling as if it was dancing with me. But then I looked into his eyes. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, but he doesn’t even have a soul. The pitch-black eyes, it’s like looking into an empty hole that once held his soul. It was a constant reminder of what my eyes used to be. My eyes used to twinkle like the ocean would when the sun shined its bright beams. But now they are not. My eyes are as black as his. I still remember the day. Looking in the mirror and seeing my soul slowly losing itself. My once twinkling blue eyes were slowly colored into the dark black. The dark black slowly consumed my blue irises. It looked like the black oil that still pollutes this earth. But that’s what it is. The black oil had finally taken over my body. And now I dance every night with him. Dancing with the shadows that the bright, dusty light reveals for me. The light is the constant reminder of hope. I try to be in the light whenever I can because my eyes would turn charcoal black. Still showing that I still have a bit of my soul left in my body. But when the light turns off, all hope disappears and he grows stronger.