Stories Told At Twilight

A 300-word flash fiction regarding the above image:

She never noticed the pale blue of her eyes until now. Pressing the palm of her hands against the cold porcelain sink, she sank deeper into her own gaze. Her eyes were not only pale but striking.

Rose leaned back and turned on the faucet, splashing water onto her face.

"I just want to get a good night's sleep; for once."

Grasping for a towel, she met her tired stare once again. The nightmares remained vivid and unabating. Now, all she saw when she closed her eyes were the imaginings of that damn bedtime story he used to tell her.

"You know, Rosy. A woman lived in a shoe once and she had two children. Not too many children, just two."

Rose mimicked her father's gruff voice as she recited his words.

"She loved them dearly, but one day the woman had to leave her children for their own safety. Deep in the woods, the children grew frightened and left their shoe house to look for her."

Rose shook her head. She knew the children never made it back.

"Just like him."

She let out a defeated breath and stared at those striking eyes. She missed her father and she couldn't stop blaming herself.

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you, Dad."

The painful lump grew in her throat and tears blurred her vision.

Rose’s frustration spilled out and she slammed her fist into the glass.

Minutes passed before Rose could meet her gaze, but this time the fractured reflection that stared back at her had changed. Rose's breath caught and she stumbled back.

She gaped in horror, behind the blued-eyed familiar face, a dark background began to take shape. For the briefest second, Rose swore the walls looked like the leather of a worn shoe before her world went black.