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Writing Challenge 2015-07-09

A character dyes their hair, but the action turns into something else

Donna

Dais


Dais just stared at the dark haired woman before him. All he wanted was to look on her for the rest of his life. If that was all he could have it would be enough.

“Nice illusion,” Cale said from the doorway.

Dais stiffened, but gave no other reaction.

Cale walked around the figure. “Very life like. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was real.” He reached out a hand.

“Don’t touch her,” Dais barked, grabbing Cale’s wrist.

They stared at each other; their wills battling for dominance.

Finally, Cale laughed, tugging away.

Dais let him go, stepping between the general and the woman.

Cale stopped at the door, “I’ll leave you alone with your ‘wife’.” His mocking laughter hung in the air after he was gone.

Slowly, Dais walked over and locked the door.

“We have to stop this.” The woman said.

Dais took his time turning to face her. Those eyes bit into his heart.

She looked at him with sympathy, “I’m sorry for your loss, but I am not her, I can never be her.”

“You are her.”

She shook her head. “I’m Donna Troy now. It has been my fate to live over and over again, each time ending in tragedy. I’m sorry that you suffered as well.”

He stood there so frozen, she wanted to touch him, reach him in some way. She wanted to save him, but he wasn’t really seeing her, he was looking at the past.

“You have to stop bringing me here.,” she smiled gently at him. “You probably scared the hair dresser to death. She dropped the dye as I faded from view.”

He blinked at her, “You are changing your hair?”

She nodded, “I think I’d like to try red for a while.”

The eyes that looked at him were strong, confident, and bold. He remembered them soft and demure. That image was immediately followed with the sight of them empty and dead.

Donna saw him soften for a moment, before his expression iced over again. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t let my fate ruin your future.”

Dais watched her fade from view, back to her own existence.

“It’s too late.”

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