Eyescene down and the community

by Bobby

I have been thinking about the last failure of the EyeScene. I do not know how many people of the community noticed that. Only two reacted via FB. 

It was not for the first time when EyeScene was down. Actually when I found EyeScene many years ago, it had been down for weeks. What I found was just static, dead bulletin board forum. In spite of the lifelessness of the forum I was reading it with quite a passion. There was another forum about glasses, which was alive and served as a substitution. It was called Vision World Forum (you can find something completely different under this name now) and it consisted of one single strip of contributions made by many people.

Some months later the EyeScene started running again and most people moved back to the old place to talk about glasses and exchange links of, those years rather scarce, pictures of girls-with-glasses. 

Occasional failures may happen to any website. EyeScene runs thanks to Moonshiner, who cares for the technical things. It used to be run by Chris, but after more than 10 years of functioning as an admin, owner and operator of the website he got tired and decided to hand over the stuff to somebody else. He just did not feel like running it any more. Even under the supervision of such professional as Chris surely is EyeScene suffered several failures. It may happen anytime.

So, I think it has shown us clearly how important for our community is to have two forums: "EyeScene" and "Vision&Spex". If either of them goes down the community does not get lost nor desintegrated and can gather at the other site. You see, FaceBook is good, but not al of us have the profiles at this modern social network.

So, what I wanted to say is just: Keep visiting both discussions and do not hesitate to contribute, as these are the Internet shelters or our small community.

And, as an illustration I am pasting a very old picture from the early days. I have had this picture in somewhere my HDD for probably 15 years. Just a month ago or so Specs4ever sent me an e-mail with the picture as an attachment. Yes, let us remember the old days for a while. 

The Secret

by Doreen F.

Charlie and Charlotte had been together for some months now. They had met one day in the library of their university. They needed the same book, but there was only one there. So instead of quarrelling they decided to meet in the afternoon and study together using the book. What began as friendship slowly led to more. After some weeks of ‘joint-studying’ Charlie summoned all his courage and asked Charlotte out on a date. She was delighted since she had been fancying Charlie a lot and sometimes concentrating while studying had been nearly impossible.

They went to the movies and to a pub after that. The film had not been that good, but that had not mattered since they had spent most of the time kissing.

The Quick Way

by an unknown author

Billy walked into the house, slammed the door, kicked the table, and threw his coat on the floor in disgust. In the pocket was the prescription from the optometrist, and it was just -0.25 more than his last examination, a whole year ago. He'd worked so hard trying to become more myopic and it just wasn't working. Was he just too damn old?

It was 3 years ago when he first started doing this. He didn't know why at the time and still didn't. Many a time he'd tried unsuccessfully to explain it to himself. Telling others about his little.....hobby....wasn't an option. Most people would think he was deranged to try and make his eyesight worse. There were a few people on the Internet he spoke to, but they all seemed to have much more success than him, and he felt like a failure. "Results vary" was always the disclaimer in this illicit pursuit as in any health-related issue. For Billy, results were pathetic. In three years he had succeeded in creating just over one diopter of myopia. When he'd mentioned this in an e-mail to one of his mentors it was suggested that he began too late, that younger people had the greatest success at induced myopia. Billy was 31.

The Nearsighted Robot

by Specs4ever

Gordon had never in his life had a long, successful relationship, and now he was alone again. The relationship that had just ended had looked very promising at the beginning, but Heather had not liked it that he preferred her wearing her glasses. From Gordon's point of view, Heather, with her severe myopia had been the ideal partner for him. Gordon really liked women that were totally dependent on their glasses and ever since he was a small boy, he had been strongly attracted to females that wore glasses.
As he thought that this might indicate that he was somewhat mental, Gordon had spent a fair amount of time and money for visits to psychiatrists. Fortunately, Gordon could afford it because he was very successful in his work and had a really good income. He had started a firm restoring vintage cars, like the Mercedes SL 300 Gull Wing. As so many of the other firms in the business of car restoration did, the cars were completely dismantled before they were reassembled. But what made Gordon's company special was that he implemented modern technology into the old cars, without altering any of their design characteristics. This meant he put a new engine, airbags and modern electronics into the old cars. The chassis were remodeled to bring the cars technically up to date. He had a long waiting list of customers and he charged them a lot of money for the restoration of their cars. It seemed a bit silly to Gordon, as they could easily get a brand new Porsche turbo for what they spent on their vintage cars. But, he had found that people were frequently not logical.
Well, most of the psychiatrists had not been able to help Gordon. And all of them spent quite a long time with him before they told him that they couldn't help him. They left poor Gordon thinking that he was just very slightly mentally off. But last year, everything changed when a young doctor told him that he was perfectly sane, that his preference for women wearing glasses could be compared to the preference that many men have for blondes or brunettes. On this memorable day Gordon gave up all the restrictions he had put onto himself.

Thick glasses and hearing aids

Andreju Oxx wanted to know if she wears hearing aids ...

... so, I made a picture especially for him. 

Credit for the base picture goes to Alain, who shot the picture for his amazing gallery at 

http://highmyopicgirls.free.fr. 

Thank you, Alain, for your hard work!

Stories about Deborah 1

Stories inspired by pictures of Deborah

Foreword:After I had uploaded pictures of Deborah (then it was on a Geocities site), the reaction of the community was very strong. Most people liked the pictures very much, although some criticized the "kinky" make-up. I thought the pictures might have been quite inspirational so I asked my friends from the Eye Scene to write some stories about her on 26th Dec. 1999. And lo and behold, my request was taken as a challenge. In ten days, six fictions were written. Andy wrote three of them, which means not only he got a great deal of inspiration but also he did a hard work as English is not his mother tongue. CZski was rather mysterious member of Eye Scene who disappeared later from Internet and never came back again; he had  very special website then too. T.E. is quite unknown member of the community, he just visited Eye Scene for some time, contributed a lot and then ... And the last (but not least) author is Specs4ever, the doyen of the Scene and a very fruitful writer. Now, enjoy the first of stories.

Deborah 1 by Andy

First posted on 27th December 1999 14:57

Well I was thinking a lot about a smart contribution on Deborah. I run a site myself and I know how difficult it is to get always new pictures. Now I look at one of those well done pictures I was able to download from the internet. As a professional photographer I analyse photographs in an other way than just “watchers” do. I realised immediately, that the expression of Deborah eyes is exactly the same as Judy’s modelling for me. It is a crisp and sharp look over the rim of those glasses. Judy does not need glasses yet. Her vision is still perfect. So my opinion is that Deborah was just modelling with those wonderful glasses. I would like to have those glasses for a nice animation on my site. 

Another clue for classifying Deborah a non GWG in real life is that I can’t see any marks of these certainly heavy glasses under the makeup of her nose. The nose area of a GWG is always a traitor. Glasses leave always a mark on your nose. They last very long, even several hours after you have put your contacts in (this is an important hint for lens watchers). OK, Bobby so far my guess about the whole story.

Now here is my fiction about Deborah if she really were a GWG:

Debby woke up to her usual fussy beginning of the day. She closed her eyes again thinking about what was going to happen this day. She remembered that she had still to get a birthday gift for her boss Bobby. She suspected that Bobby knew about the avidly guarded secret of her extremely high myopia. She had worn contacts for the past 20 years. 

The Crosseyed Story

Another micro story I have dug up from my archive. This time it is about crossed eyes.

By Anonymous

This story is fictional but based on someone I was acquainted with.

For as long as I could remember, I was fascinated and turned on by crossed eyes. Both in other people and myself. At the age of 10 I discovered how to cross my eyes and did it whenever I was alone. I soon was able to cross them and hold for an hour at a time, usually with them turned all the way in.

When I was 12 I was prescribed my first glasses for nearsightedness. My folks were not too receptive to me wearing glasses so after my eye exam at the age of 11 when they were told that I needed glasses, they ignored the advice and by the time I was 12 I was a -2.50.

Coffeeshop

Just a mini story by Doreen. BTW, English is not Doreen's mother tongue, and look how she can write stories it her second language. It is really unusual. And very good.

by Doreen F.

Alex and her friend Mel used to go to the same coffee shop every Wednesday and Friday during their semester. They always went there during their lunch break. The coffee shop was opposite the university and offered the best coffee in town and had great bagels as well. And there also was a really cute and funny waiter who was always joking around. He was not very tall, but slim and had dark blond hair, which was a bit longer, but not too long and he had the bluest eyes Alex had ever seen. His name was Jay and he always gave Alex a smile which lasted a bit longer than would have been normal.

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

I think it is time to bring another gay story. I admit I had a problem with gay stories some time ago. I did not want them on the old site. But some people persuaded me I should change my attitude. One of them was Jules, the author of the following story. He is a clever man, educated, intelligent. As we say in my country " Ha is a man I could go to a pub to have some beers." And then I had some clients, who were gays, and they were good and funny to wirk with. So, this is how gay stories appeared in my hard disk to be uploaded and become a part of the collection.

Featuring Will Shakespeare the gay optometrist

by Julian

Part I

The moment of truth came when my driving instructor said, “Read me the number of that car over there.”

It had never occurred to me that other people might be able to see better than I could; I mean, everything in the distance faded off into a blur, that was just the way things were; and if I remembered seeing more clearly when I was younger, why then I knew things changed as you grew up. I could see all that I needed to see, as far as I knew, and I was happy with that. I suppose if I’d been in an ordinary school I’d have noticed the other kids could read something in the blur on the blackboard—but there was no blur, because there were no blackboards, at the Stage School where I had a scholarship. It wasn’t so much a drama school as a place where young actors could combine their stage work with getting a decent general education. Quite a lot of the teaching was on a one-to-one basis and the rest in small groups, in small rooms where nothing was very far away. Except when exams were looming, our general education was dovetailed in with our professional engagements: auditions, rehearsals, stage performances and studio sessions for TV and the big screen. I was certainly a privileged kid—and I had just landed a good part in a soap opera that looked as if it might run for years. Parts like that can get you off to a good start, as long as you don’t get typecast; and they provide a steady income when you’re ‘resting’ as they say from other work.

I was pretty well accustomed to public transport—as far as I knew everybody waited till the bus reached the stop to see where it was going—but it was going to be really handy if I could drive myself, maybe get a runabout of my own if I went on earning well. So of course I booked in at a driving school as soon as I could manage it.

Then, as I said, came the crunch: “Before we start, just read me the number of that car over there.”

I looked where he was pointing; certainly I could see a car, a big blue car, and it didn’t take much imagination to persuade myself I could see where the number plate was, but read the number? No chance!

“What do you mean?” I said. “You can’t expect anybody to read at that distance!”

A Big Doubt

This is rather unusual story, as it is translated from Portuguese. The translation has some mistakes and strange spots, but I decided not to correct them leaving the special flavour of the translated text. It kind of send me to that faraway country where the stroy takes place. 
I wonder if there are more glasses stories in Portuguese. The original Portuguese version follows after the end of the English translation.

By Francisco

Translated from Portuguese by Francisco

My name is Emile, I am a lady 55 years of age, with my husband, who is agriculturist, as I manage a farm inherited from my father, and that turned into a major producer of vegetables. I have 2 daughters, 30 and 32 years, and believe that God was kind to me, because at this age I still look for men of reason, but I have something that is not well seen by many people, my high myopia.

The Girl With The Myodisc Eyes

by Specs4ever

I won’t, no I can’t, deny it. My attraction to, and my love of myopia have lead me to some strange circumstances. I have had people from all over the world write me, and compliment me on the stories I have written over the years. A film student even wrote me to ask me if he could make a movie of one of my stories, but I guess nothing ever happened, as I never heard anything more from him. Some of the people who have communicated with me have been out and out fakes, telling me a tall tale from their own imagination. But for the most part I have enjoyed every minute that this weird hobby has taken of my time.

A few years ago a young lady from London England wrote to me. She told me that she was about a –3.50D myope when she was 15 years old, and she wanted to increase her prescription substantially. So I spent some time writing her, and she did increase her prescription to around –14.00D by the time she was 20 years old. If she had taken my advice completely, I suspect that she would have been able to go even higher, but still, a –14.00D prescription is a pretty strong prescription.

Down the Same Road

by Specs4ever

I looked at the glasses I was holding in my hand, and then I looked at the picture I had just scanned into my computer. The glasses were the same, but the face in the picture wearing the glasses, with her eyes minified behind the strong lenses of these glasses no longer resembled the hazel eyed strawberry blonde girl, that I had just left a couple of hours ago. Gone were the strong glasses, replaced by 12 years of contact lens wear. The strawberry blonde hair was now much shorter, and there were no more bangs touching the upper rims of the glasses. She was still about the same general slim build, and the height hadn’t changed, but the smile in the picture was something I hadn’t seen much of for the last few years. How had it happened I wondered? How had we fallen in love, married, had a wonderful daughter and at the same time destroyed all semblances of our former carefree happy selves?

My eyes got so bad!

The Fancy Dress Party

I must admit I love this story.

By ChrisB

The events I am about to relate came about as a result of a party that was cancelled. My wife Gen and I enjoy going to dressing up parties. The participants are really an extended group of friends some of whom have been involved with Amateur Dramatics (Am Dram) over the years and still liked an excuse to dress up. The parties were, I hasten to add, quite innocuous. The dressing up was just dressing up, Vicars and Tarts, Tramps, Pirates, etc.

The party in question was themed as Hollywood Heroes. My wife went to the costume shop in the next town and came back with something from ‘X Men’ and the Darryl Hannah character from ‘Kill Bill’ for herself. All yellow jumpsuit, boots, wig, but most striking of all, the eye patch.

Myopia Virus from Outer Space

by R.J.

After having my dinner I went out for a walk on the seashore. It was quite late and dark there. The sea was calm and the sky was clear. After walking some distance, I sat down to relax and enjoy the cool breeze. While looking at the mesh of stars, my eyes got focused on one big twinkling star. It was a lot bigger than any other star in the sky. The star kept growing in size quite rapidly and in few minutes it came so close and made me realize that it’s not a star but a spaceship. A big egg-shaped spaceship! My eyes and mouth were wide open and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Before I could think of anything, a bright light struck me from the spaceship and when I blinked open my eyes I was inside it. I was sitting inside the spaceship in the same position as I was sitting on the beach. For a moment it felt like I am watching one of those science-fiction movies, but it was real and I was inside a real spaceship.

It was dark inside and suddenly there was light. What I saw, I couldn’t believe, a beautiful woman approaching me! I had no idea what was going on. Is she an alien, but she looked human! A woman!
As she came closer, I was mesmerized by her beauty. She had curly-brown hair, slender body, tall legs, and sharp facial features. She was amazingly beautiful. I asked her what’s going on. Who are you and where am I?? She didn’t respond back. Not sure if she could understand my language. She came up-close. She was a perfect woman. I looked into her eyes and her pupils were white, which was quite strange and it appeared as though she is blind.

The Promise

by RJ

I used to be an avid traveler and have visited most of the unexplored places in India. India is a huge country and has lots of tourist places, but my interest lies in exploring the unexplored. India is a developing country and has many unexplored villages, customs, tribes, and culture.

I am from the northern part of the country. I had been working relentlessly for 10 years now, so I resigned from my job and took a long break to travel and explore. I packed my bags and boarded the train and headed to the southern part of the country. This part is known for its exquisite landscape, rivers, and mountains.

I reached the railway station of a big southern city. I looked at the map and spotted some good remote places amidst of nature. I then boarded a state-run bus to reach a remote village, which according to me is quite beautiful and unexplored. It was hell of a ride as the bus took the road to the village. Finally, I reached my destination. As I thought, there were no hotels in the village and the time when I reached there it was already dark and I was in the remotest part of the country with no place for shelter.

Glasses Forever - part 2 The Society for the Promotion of Glasses

by Specs4ever

Well, this should have been a long enough interval for people to have read the first part of this tale "Glasses Forever" Now, here comes the sequel:

Hi, welcome to the monthly meeting of “The Society”. I would like to thank you all for coming, and I am pleased to see a number of new faces in the crowd. As most of you are aware, once the original members of this group decided that it was a wasted effort for us to try to eliminate our attraction to members of the opposite sex who wore glasses, strong, or weak, minus, or plus, we changed the name of the group, and have, for the last 5 years been promoting the wearing of eyeglasses. Once we changed our name, we have had a constant increase in membership, and have attracted glasses wearers of both sexes as members throughout the world. We have developed a web site. We have had a lobbyist in Washington for a number of years, and I am pleased to report that he has succeeded in having legislation passed to reduce the number of people who are qualified to have laser surgery. Our hope was, of course, to eliminate it completely, but we are pleased that he has been able to stop anyone from having laser surgery unless their prescription is greater than plus or minus 4 diopters. This, along with more stringent guidelines, and the elimination of the waivers, has reduced the number of doctors that will do this surgery to a mere handful.

Glasses Forever

This story is the first of a 2 part SPOOF. It is written as a spoof, it is intended to be a spoof, and no person, or animal has been harmed in the writing of this story.

by Specs4ever

I love girls that wear glasses. I don’t know when it started in my life, but I do know that every sexual fantasy I have ever had has included a girl wearing glasses with strong, thick minus lenses. And, many of these fantasies have occurred shortly after I have met, and followed a lady with glasses around a mall, or grocery store. I am indeed an addict.

For the last 20 years, I have been the manager of a packaging factory. We hire mostly women to do the work, as it is light work. Unfortunately, the pay is just a little over minimum wage, so we can’t be too choosy with the ladies we hire. Also, in the summer, we hire a lot of female students from the local high school and university.

The first year I was employed by the company, I was given free reign over the hiring. My assistant, Karen, was one of my first employees, and when Karen came through the door of the office I knew I had to have her working here. Karen was a high myope, and at the time was wearing glasses with lenses that were around –15D. I hired Karen, and we dated off and on for several years, but we really didn’t get along that well even though she didn’t wear contacts and had glasses with CR39 plastic lenses that were nearly an inch thick, so we have now gone back to being, just friends and co-workers.

My first experience with GOC

by Bobby

First I wanted to tell the story by heart, but then I decided to copy and paste the contributions I had sent to the Eye Scene and Vision World Forum and add some comments. I think it will show the events in the original way and my readers will not have to search through the archives of the sites. I corrected some typos and grammar mistakes, and added some words to make the text easier to read. My postings are in black and "Arial font", my later commentary is in blue and Bold Arial Font

The first step I took was a phone call to Prague. I wanted to test possible reactions of opticians. Later, I sent the following text to the Eye Scene BBS:

Bobby                posted 26 April 1999 04:36 

I made an experiment. 

The problem how to buy glasses over contacts lenses has been discussed here (i.e. Eyescene and Vision World Forum) for many times. There are specialists among us who can count the diopters in combination, a chart was published, some of us have practical experience with GOC. The topic is so common, that we use an abbreviation "GOC" as if it was "NATO" or "UK". 

But still, one problem seems unsolvable: How can I go to an optician and tell him:

"I want to wear GOC, sell me glasses with minus 15 D." 

What would the reaction be?

The only way how to find out the reaction is to ask. I picked up the phone and called to an optic shop selling both glasses and contact lenses. I choose the first I could see in Golden Pages. I decided to fabricate the following situation: 

A place where nobody knows me

by Bobby

Here, I would like to write about the "place where nobody knows me" clause.

At first I experienced it. When I lived in Prague I took my long walks in a blurry world when I had my strong glasses days, I did not want to meet anybody who knew me as I could not imagine how  I would explain the reason why I was wearing such thick glasses. I was kind of ashamed for my strange "hobby".

Later I read the phrase at the Eye Scene and in the fictions, which are biographical to a certain extent, written by others.

The "place where nobody knows me" is almost a magic formula.

Diana of Klington

I hope you will enjoy this story as much as I did. It is a fantasy, and the author is Aliena, a long term member of the Eyescene commnity. Thank you Aliena for this story.

Dianna of Klington

By Aliena

Even with the bright sun shining, the gray stone walls of the magnificent 200 year old castle appeared dark against the blue of the skies. The castle, set high in the hills, overlooking a lush green valley with a river running through it has been home to the Duke of Klington since it was built in the late 900’s.

On this joyous day, Edward the son of the current Duke, is to be married to a young, vivacious woman of royal heritage, the Lady Arlene of Ruthin. This has been an arranged marriage, as the parents of the bride and groom have been friends for many years, and as children Edward, and Lady Arlene played together. They are no longer children. Edward now stands over six feet tall and has wavy black hair, fair skin, and dark intense blue eyes. Lady Arlene is equally handsome, about five feet seven inches tall, slim, with thick auburn-red hair and light golden-brown eyes and very fair color. Standing in front of the priest, exchanging their vows, they appear to be the perfect couple

During the first four years of their marriage Edward became the Duke of Klington after his father’s death. And, they had three children, a boy and two girls. All three of the children were as handsome and bright as their parents. William, the oldest, was very active and quite protective of his sisters, but did have a tendency to get into some trouble as boys are wont to do. The second child, Andrea, was also very pretty with her mother’s red-auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and smooth, ivory skin. She also was very active and very quick. She had a pretty smile that showed two dimples on each side of her cheeks. Both William and Andrea were very protective of their younger sister, Dianna. Dianna was the best looking of the three children. She had thick, dark golden hair, intense blue eyes, like her father, and a peaches and cream complexion, like her mother. She, however, was not as active as her brother and sister. There were times that that she would just sit quietly and listen to things going on around her.

Barbara 1

a picture by Misiak

This is an amazing girl. She is from Hungary, the same country where Tom the Hungarian was born, Barbara is not her real name. Misiak and me gave her the nickname as she looks like Barbaba in my series "The Glasses Couple" might look like.

Edie

by BobD

This story is copyrighted. © This story may be copied and put on other sites

provided they are NOT sites that charge for viewing and this header is included.

BobD @ techie.com

Part One

       I’m a twenty-eight-year-old right above-knee amputee named Edie. I lost my leg to cancer when I was fifteen, and was devastated as you can imagine. I was and am a very active person, participating in all sorts of sports. I was participating in a summer girl’s softball league as I usually did when the cancer was discovered. As practice was starting that summer, I noticed that my right leg was very sore and sensitive just below the knee. I figured that I had bumped it without realizing it and had a bit of a bruise because I also noticed a darkish spot in the sensitive area. Of course I paid little attention to it and continued to practice with my team thinking that in a couple of days it would be all healed up.

Deirdre

This is one of my favourite wheelchair stories. Wulentee is a great writer and Deidre is one of the best written stories of the wheelchair genre.

by Wulleente

The rain drummed a steady rhythm on the roof, I was leaning against the window, absent-mindedly tracing the rains runlets with my finger. I stared out into the dark, watched the city passing by the city lights magnified and blurred by the raindrops. It had been a long day, and a dreary one. I felt someone watching me and noticed the cabby was giving me the eye via the rear view mirror. I pulled the old cardie closer around me, luckily I had had the time to change after work. Otherwise the look would have been more harmful. Usually I would have taken the bus, but on a night like this the way from the bus stop to my front door was just too far.

Finally we pulled into my street, the rain had slowed down but I knew I would be soaking wet by the time I finally reach my front door. The cab pulled over and slowly rolled to a halt. I watched the cabby rush out to retrieve my wheelchair from the boot. I observed how he fumbled with it and finally propped it open next to the rear door, which he opened for me.

Murder in the Street

Doreen wrote a detective story, with the glasses theme, of course. Sometimes I wonder why there are so few female authors in the genre of glasses fetish stories. It is a pity we do not have more talented women who could contribute to the scene.

by Doreen F.

Could you believe it? There had been a murder in my street. I would never have thought that was possible. The owner of the tennis centre was found dead in his kitchen. And his new girlfriend had also been killed. Of course nobody really knew any details, but most were really curious and wanted to know exactly what had happened.

Not too long after the discovery of the bodies the police was all around asking everyone if he had seen anything suspicious. The house was at the far end of the road, about 100 metres away from mine, which seemed rather close to me. But I had not seen anything, at least I thought so. The street was rather quiet in the evenings. I did not even know when exactly the killing was supposed to have taken place.

But I was not really surprised when a rather nice police-man came knocking at my door. He wanted to know if I had seen anything suspicious and told me the approximate time of when the murder had taken place.

Much Ado about Nothing

This is the first part of the Will Shakespeare series by Julian, who used to write quite interesting men-in-glasses (MIG) stories. Let us hope his muse wil kiss him again to make him write more ....

An early story of Will Shakespeare

by Jules 

They say that when somebody goes into school wearing glasses for the first time everybody will want to try them on, and nine out of ten will say “My God, these are strong!” They’re right too, that was how it happened when we all tried Billy Shakespeare’s new glasses on. But I wasn’t one of the nine. I was the tenth. I was the one who tried them on and took them off, said nothing, and went on saying nothing for a while. I was the one who suddenly saw everything crystal clear, and tried to avoid realizing what this meant.
I took them off, I said nothing and hoped nobody would notice my agitation, and it seemed all was well. I couldn’t possibly need glasses. Could I? One thing was quite certain: I didn’t want glasses. The last thing I wanted to be was a four-eyed geek. That wouldn’t appeal at all to the guys I wanted to hang around with and (I may as well admit it) fool around with.
Billy’s glasses would be a nine days’ wonder and I could keep my head down. It worried me a bit for a few days, maybe nine, and then I began to forget it. I tried not to notice that I always went for the seat nearest to the TV screen. It came natural to me to play up in class, and all the teachers kept me up front. No, I had no problems. No, my eyes were fine. No, I didn’t need specs. Then my parents started to talk about driving lessons.
That was why Billy Shakespeare had had to get glasses: he’d gone for driving lessons and failed the vision test. I got hold of the Highway Code and read it: “you MUST be able to read a vehicle number plate from a distance of 20.5 metres (67 feet—about five car lengths) in good daylight.” Five car lengths—but how big should the cars be? Minis? Jaguars? I began to read car numbers at every opportunity: this one was OK, that was out of range, but how far was 20.5 metres? This time the worry persisted; my birthday was approaching and sooner or later the moment of truth would come. I’d better see if I could check it out a bit more thoroughly. The opportunity came sooner than I expected. I was crossing the school sports ground when I spotted three cars parked on the far side; all I had to do was walk towards them till the numbers came in focus and then pace out the distance; I was pretty tall even then, and still growing, so I reckoned I could cover about a metre with each step. I walked towards the cars, watching the number plates...still nothing I could decipher...now I could see the letters and numbers, but not make out what they were...ah! That was more like it, and I began to count my long paces...three more and I realized I hadn’t had it quite right, start again...twelve, thirteen, fourteen! Hell’s bells, even if my paces were a full metre each I was nowhere near reading a number plate at the required distance. I had a problem; how to get out of it, that was the question. Suddenly I realized somebody was watching me; squinting, I could make out that it was Peter Fraser, the best-looking guy in my year and the one I really wanted to impress. He was a tall slim black lad, with the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen: long, with long fingers; no wonder he was a brilliant pianist and organist. I tried to think of an innocent answer to the inevitable questions, but apparently they weren’t inevitable after all; he nodded and turned away. The previous question remained though: what was I going to do? The choice seemed to be between getting glasses before the lessons started and waiting till I was asked to read a number plate; the only other possibility was not worth considering: I could talk my parents out of my learning to drive.

Her Friend

This one is very short, yet nice, just a flash of memory ... thank you, Dieter.

A Vignette by Dieter

Ruth, my girl friend of a short time, turned to say, “We need to stop at the drug store a minute.  There is something I need to give to a friend who works there.”  A mile down the road I drove into the entrance of the quaint mall and found a place to park the car.  Walking hand-in-hand up the sidewalk, with gentlemanly manners I opened the door for Ruth and followed through.  From previous experience she knew where to find her friend.

As we approached, the friend turned in recognition. When I saw her face, my heart skipped a beat.  Sure we had been classmates in high school for several years.  But we belonged to different circles socially at least until that moment.  I had known little about her and had been given few opportunities to discover more.  In fact, that was the first time we had been introduced by a mutual acquaintance.  In reality, I had known her name long before.  And though she had always seemed attractive, there had never been anything especially remarkable about her before.

But now, in her seventeenth year, as she stood smiling, she was wearing glasses made of black plastic.  Her eyes glistened, perfectly framed as though they had been painted on an artist’s canvas.  Although my focus was only on her, I watched as the two young women conversed.  Not a word of theirs penetrated my thoughts.

As she spoke, nodded, and listened, I studied the movements of her face.  Her skin was radiant.  Her wavy black hair shined with depth.  Her dark eyes were animated and inviting.  Her nose was perfectly suited for the assignment of supporting the dazzling frames.  Ears, hidden by the picturesque hair, satisfied the task of restraining the glasses properly.  Not once did her hands reach to adjust the fit.  Her lips moved gracefully with eloquence.  Would they feel smooth and soft?  I watched in awe wondering how they would taste.

The lenses in the gorgeous frames were stunning.  Relative strength was exposed by the intensity of her enlarged eyes in the rectangular shape.  The squared corners seemed exceptionally intricate.  Somehow, there was warmth in their thickness and a gray hue of color despite their absolute clarity.  I was captivated by the reflections of scenery displayed as the lenses were moved about by her head.  But how had she been able to perform before the glasses were placed there?  How had her eyes been able to endure the strain?  Had she known that, for her, correction was imminent?  How had she felt when she realized the inevitability of that consequence?  Those were the questions that lingered had I been privy to the asking.

And what allowed her to wear glasses so comfortably?  She seemed perfectly at ease.  Had she not feared the premiere of her being seen?  Perhaps she savored that new opportunity?  Her reliance was unquestionable yet she was unfettered.  How was that so?  Ruth would never wear her glasses when it was possible to be seen by others.  Not ever.  But then, neither would I.  Though I wanted badly to be that dependent, I was the one who was an absolute coward to be declared dependent.  But this stylish young woman, that had redirected my attention, carried on as though nothing in her life had changed.  Her confidence was indisputable despite the feasibility that the unavoidable device on her face could make her seem much less desirable to some.  Had she seized upon the comprehension that glasses made her even more desirable to others?  And though they might be bothersome and inconvenient to her lifestyle, I knew she understood more than anyone that glasses were the only reason that her eyes could see well.  Surely, she had to grasp how they made her look?  But was she aware of how they made me feel?

In the end, my only contribution to the conversation had been, “It is nice to finally meet you.”  It must have been articulated with too much enthusiasm based on the quiet ride that followed.  Maybe what was most damning was the fact that my eyes never left hers once the connection was established.  When we left, I struggled to avoid looking over my shoulder.  I missed the sight of her face instantly.  It was no surprise that Ruth and I never dated again.

Diana of Klington

I hope you wil enjoy this piece very much. The author is Aliena.  

By Aliena

Even with the bright sun shining, the gray stone walls of the magnificent 200 year old castle appeared dark against the blue of the skies. The castle, set high in the hills, overlooking a lush green valley with a river running through it has been home to the Duke of Klington since it was built in the late 900’s.

On this joyous day, Edward the son of the current Duke, is to be married to a young, vivacious woman of royal heritage, the Lady Arlene of Ruthin. This has been an arranged marriage, as the parents of the bride and groom have been friends for many years, and as children Edward, and Lady Arlene played together. They are no longer children. Edward now stands over six feet tall and has wavy black hair, fair skin, and dark intense blue eyes. Lady Arlene is equally handsome, about five feet seven inches tall, slim, with thick auburn-red hair and light golden-brown eyes and very fair color. Standing in front of the priest, exchanging their vows, they appear to be the perfect couple

During the first four years of their marriage Edward became the Duke of Klington after his father’s death. And, they had three children, a boy and two girls. All three of the children were as handsome and bright as their parents. William, the oldest, was very active and quite protective of his sisters, but did have a tendency to get into some trouble as boys are wont to do. The second child, Andrea, was also very pretty with her mother’s red-auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and smooth, ivory skin. She also was very active and very quick. She had a pretty smile that showed two dimples on each side of her cheeks. Both William and Andrea were very protective of their younger sister, Dianna. Dianna was the best looking of the three children. She had thick, dark golden hair, intense blue eyes, like her father, and a peaches and cream complexion, like her mother. She, however, was not as active as her brother and sister. There were times that that she would just sit quietly and listen to things going on around her.

When Dianna was a year old, she had been slow to learn to walk and seemed to have some difficulty walking. She frequently fell down and once she ran into a pillar that she apparently had not seen. As time went on, she dropped things and broke them and often ran into things. She seemed clumsy and awkward. She was a sweet child and had a bright smile and a pleasing personality, even though she was very quiet and somewhat reserved. Dianna would never hurt anything and she loved animals. She had a beautiful black and white Fox Terrier dog and a pretty brown-gray Siamese cat. She loved both of them very much. The dog was always with her and seemed to sense that Dianna had problems. He too seemed very protective of her. He would sleep at the foot of her bed, acting as her protector.

Saturday Afternoon

by Hooked 

(Translated by Peter G.)
Saturday
Approx.13h00
Aargh, that’s terribly bright. And that noise in my head. A student’s life can be so strenuous. I must have been slumming somewhere last night, and I guess alcohol played its part too. Where is my watch. Only 1 p.m., time enough to turn around in bed once more. Oh shit, can’t do that. It’s Saturday. Premier League football at three-thirty. Okay, so that has priority. I’ll sleep in tomorrow instead. After all, it’s only Sunday. Nothing much to do then. May as well sleep it off tomorrow.

Approx. 14h30
Why am I late again? The game isn’t going to wait for me. But I simply had to have some food to fight that hangover. At least my stomach is feeling a little better. Hope it stays that way. Ah, there comes the tram. Guys, don’t rush so. Let the others get out first, then we can get on. Life is too short to be run over by a tram. On at last. Where can I find a seat? Ah, there is a free seat. Wow, that’s a pretty lady sitting right across from my seat. Looks as though she is headed for the stadium too. Whatever, enough time for me to take a short nap and catch up on my sleep. I’ll wake up in time, I can always take a quick peek as we go along.
Hey, Dieter, keep your eyes open. What is the young lady up to? She’s trying to read the print on the reverse side of her ticket. She brings the ticket close to her eyes, scrunches them up, holds it further away again, still doesn’t seem to be quite perfect. Don’t tell me she’s...

A highmyopic beauty

A high myope morph, the first in 2013