shy - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
I am an underwater spirit, not the bold sun in the sky. I am the fish in the cool shallows, never the hawk who hunts above. I am wind-chimes in a spring breeze, never a storm to bring all the wrong kinds of excitement. But I promise if you give me a chance, in our home I will be the warmth, the love and the laugher. I am not without zest, I just need a safe and quiet place to be myself.
She must be about seven or eight years old I’m guessing, First Nations certainly. She’s smiling in that same way my kid sister used to when she greeted Mom’s dinner party guests, not scared but not relaxed enough for a genuine smile.
Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by .
When she was a young child she used to hide behind her mother, using her as a shield between her and the stranger. When she had to go to school and leave her mother at the gate, she held back, wanting to talk to the other kids but not knowing what to say or how to say it. What if she got it wrong? As a teenager she kept to one good friend and used her as a shield in much the same way she had with her mother all those years ago. She let her friend to the talking in social situations and blushed furiously if a boy she was interested in entered the same room as her, causing her to make her excuses and dash out.
Whenever someone says 'shy', I immediately think of the mimosa plant, the touch-me-not. Sometimes I thought that they were just shy, so I called them 'notice-me-not', as when people notice them, they are so tempted to touch the mimosa plant with the pink ball of fluffy flower on it...
Gabriel was so proud of her hair but it wasn't the best thing about her. It fell in red ringlets about her pale skin, so striking that it was the only thing anyone every commented on. But Ryan barely noticed it. He could drink in her words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling tipsy. He watched her like she had the stars in her hands and soft petals at her feet. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go. But first things first, he had to ask her out on a date and his nerves were so bad he shook at just the thought.
The boy is more fragile than the glass ballerina that sits on my dresser at home. I think if I were spin him too hard in country-dancing class his limbs might just snap. It's hard to get his attention under than mop of brown hair that dominates his narrow face, there are eyes in there somewhere. He had skin the same colour as my Dad, that brown colour without the effort of trying to get a tan, not white like me and Mom. He holds himself like he's trying to take up even less space than he already does and his clothes look at least a size too small, only exaggerating his skinniness. He looks so lost. I want to know his name so I dig in my lunch for the cookie I snuck from the cupboard this morning. I was going to share it with Amy but this new kid looks like it's just what he needs...
We stared back at each other for what seemed like hours until she finally dropped her gaze, “And there’s one more thing,” her voice was quieter now, less sure. She looked back up at me; a gentle flush of pink had arisen in her cheeks that made her look vulnerable. I held my breath as she leaned up on the tips of her toes and tentatively pressed her soft lips to mine. My head had gone hazy; my body became stagnant at the sensation of her lips against mine. So this is what a kiss feels like? So sweet and silken it’s enough to melt even the hardest hearted man. Just as I was going to lose myself in this moment, she retreated, a look of discomfiture on her face.
Eloway was shy, not an introvert where you felt power in being alone. No, that wasn't it, Eloway wanted to be around people, to connect with them, she just didn't know how. That, was the true definition of being shy.