A Life Through Blue Eyes.

I needed some feedback on my latest story idea.
The book's name would be "A Life Through Blue Eyes"
I hope you enjoy it:

I was shocked as my first impression logged the moment subconsciously. A wild, fierce and uncontrollable force gripped me. My stomach twisted in onto itself, I almost gagged. I wanted to jump up from my seat, shrieking as I went, and move. I wanted to melt, I wanted to yell, I wanted to be.

I looked down, noting that my heart rate had risen to a gallop, and tried to compose myself after such a…violent reaction. She herself was wild, though not in any extremely noticeable way. It was just her appearance, her very presence that created an aura of complete freedom. Or a desire for freedom.

Her long, black curls fell staggered on either side of her face, framing her alabaster pale skin. There was no real style to it, and I was dimly reminded of a lion’s mane, spreading in each direction like a regal crown. The pale face was also strange, almost foreign in pure beauty that radiated out like flames that could not be contained. A sharp jaw and a sharp nose sandwiched perfectly blood-red lips. And above the rest, were her eyes.

I felt the incomprehensible urge to move once again. To jump, to scream, to BE.

This girl’s eyes were alive. As much I was alive, as much as the plants and trees and animals on Earth, her eyes were alive. They were the deepest blue and they illuminated the area around her with knowledge and untold secrets.

She stood, towering over our jaw-slacked teacher and in one moment I was sure her eyes saw everything: the stormy-day blue walls, the clashing black and white tiles, the Mahoney desk in the far left corner. She saw every face, every expression, and every soul in the room, with her those blue daggers of eyes.

Then, as soon is it had come, it was over.

Her eyes dimmed slightly, no longer so obviously alien, but still alive with a resigned stare. And she smiled, pulling her lips back to stun me momentarily with snow-white teeth. And she stunned me, and me only. As she smiled, her eyes, on fire once more, locked with mine and I felt like it would be impossible to ever stop staring into those deep, strange, alien eyes…

Has she moved already?

Was she talking?

When had my thoughts become incomprehensible? When I had I lost track of seconds on the clock. If she had not truly pause and stared at me, then why was I sure I’d seen her eyes in the way your can only see them while making eye contact? And she was talking!

“…we just moved here, from Albany, New York. It’s much warmer here. Even if just a little more, it’s still warm in comparison…”

I continued to stare, dazed into silence, at the white board, just barely hearing the conversation between our teacher and this….thing. Even in the haze, however, I did register her voice to be lower than expected. It was not the girly, soprano voice I’d anticipated. Her voice was low, like an adult’s. Each word was articulated perfectly, and she spoke quickly in almost a demanding way. As if she did not have the time to be bothered with such trifle things as speaking.

Was she already sitting? Gone from the front of the room? How long had I been blankly gazing, not really seeing anything as I struggled to regain the shred of composure that now littered the floor about me.

And then I felt the wind, as something moved very close beside me. I turned instinctively, almost wishing I didn’t. Because, while my body moved, I connected the dots; the chair beside me had been the only open one in the room.

And there she was. I didn’t even see her face, just her eyes. It was almost painful to try and keep the eye contact, but I had a feeling that if I didn’t something wrong would happen. Suddenly, without any warning, I feel comfortable and warmth spread through my body, dazing me further.

I was already two steps behind though. The girl had turned to face the teacher, who seemed to be talking. His lips moved, at least, but the warmth plugged my ears and I gawked emptily, trying to read the lips.