Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Staring Contest

"And... go!"

In the midst of a superficial conversation with Stephanie, I hardly noticed Will's murmurous command. I chuckled at something she'd said--I don't remember what--and turning for a moment to glance beside me, our eyes met. His challenge registered at last; before I knew what I was doing, my own eyes were drowning in the abyssal meadows of his hazel soul.

Neither of our gazes wavered. Though my lips remained taut and expressionless, the corners of his began to twitch. Still, I had no reason to laugh. Perhaps, that was the reason why I championed every occasional contest of this harmless child's game--to me, there was nothing harmless or childish about it. While he fought to keep a straight face, I fought to keep from suffocating in the aromatic fumes of mystery that lurked beneath the windows to his very being. I was falling. Deeper.

Then he cracked.

And my desperate fantasy shattered with his stoic facade. Playful delight, the only visible emotion, resumed as I packed away the remnants of passion and swept aside the dust of my hope. The hope that maybe--just maybe--just this once...

It had been real.

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