stare - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"Stare or don't, you won't get anything." Kathy had a way of not mincing her words, arms folded tightly over her freshly ironed uniform. For such frail girl she was kinda bad ass; I liked that. The biker shifted on his saddle, his eyes still resting on her like she was a shot of single malt. Then to my surprise he raised one black-gloved hand and gave her a salute. As Kathy placed her hands on her hips the man redirected his gaze to the road and left in a plume of dust.
Stare, that's all I do these days, stare at the people who have a life. From the doorway that's become my home I fix my gaze on the passers by, inventing a conversation between us that will never be. A month ago I couldn't have done it without sunglasses to hide my curiosity, now it doesn't matter. Doorway dwellers are invisible, from their point of view the street is empty apart from themselves and persons in the stores who may service their needs. Staring is the only thing that keeps my brain alive, giving me observations by which to assign them characters and dialogue.
"Stare them down, Jess. You're the distraction." She nodded and adopted the swagger, tight jeans moving down the lamp-lit street. She'd known this would be her task tonight, and frankly it was easier under false lashes, eyes rimmed in black pencil. The "marks" didn't know whether to be scared or make an advance on her, not that they ever got a chance to decide. Staring into their eyes gave her a thrill it was hard to get another way. It was like shovelling heavy muck onto the girl her folks wanted her to be and igniting her primal drive.
Micha's stare wasn't intentionally cold, his face somehow lacked the mobility others had. His eyes would rest on a point, even a person, and he'd stay like longer than the average person would. Others would alter their paths not to cross his and stand further back than was customary. It was like the elongated eye contact demanded a greater degree of physical separation. It wasn't something he ever noticed himself, but to his brother, Seb, it was obvious and he felt a spark of contamination by association he wasn't proud of.
After the accident Edna would stare blankly no matter what was happening in the room. The doctors came and went, asking her to focus on a pen or move a limb but all she did was keep breathing. It wasn't so much a cold stare, but a vacant one. It was like she'd passed on but her body hadn't realized.
The man wilted under Gran's stare. To be fair to him all but the local gang leaders did the exact same thing, and even the blue-hawks gave her a nod of respect. It wasn't just the cool grey eyeballs, it was the intelligence behind them that did it. In the gap between their eyes and hers a battle was fought and she trounced them without a flinch.
His stare was as uncomfortable as a chorus-girl corset and had the same effect on Katrina's breathing, constricted and shallow. There was no life behind those eyes. Every move he made betrayed his intentions and none of them were noble.
The woman, disregarding his silent salutation, continued to stare at him wild-eyed, as a damned soul in purgatory might look at Satan passing in regal splendour through the seventy times sevenfold circles of hell.