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Its gray, slippery skin was stretched taut upon its face. Its hands rested on the rock, hands that were webbed and huge with each finger ending in a sharp, curved nail.It was as tall as a human man, yet oddly shrunken and hunched.”“His hair had been grown to counteract its unequivocal retreat from the top of his head, and was fashioned into a mean, frail ponytail that hung limply down his back.But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.”“[Miss Havisham] had shut out infinitely more; that, in seclusion, she had secluded herself from a thousand natural and healing influences; that, her mind, brooding solitary, had grown diseased, as all minds do and must and will that reverse the appointed order of their Maker…”“For such and extraordinary athlete—even as a Lower Middler Phineas had been the best athlete in the school—he was not spectacularly built.
””“Her skin was a rich black that would have peeled like a plum if snagged, but then no one would have thought of getting close enough to Mrs. She had large eyes which were not bright, and a great deal of hair which was not ‘dressed,’ and long fine hands which were–possibly–not clean.”“She is the spoiled sultana of the boards.
Flowers to ruffle her dress, let alone snag her skin. To spoil her acting may be easy enough,—shall they spoil her nature? There, at home, she is still good and simple; and there, under the awning by the doorway,—there she still sits, divinely musing.
You want your reader to be asking questions about this character, to not only learn something about them but to create mystery. Consider: “How is this person viewed by another character? Her mouth bowed forward and her brow sloped back, and her skull shone pink and speckled within a mere haze of hair, which hovered about her head like the remembered shape of an altered thing.
” Do they seem dangerous, alluring, secretive, suspicious? She looked as if the nimbus of humanity were fading away and she were turning monkey.
His hat was laying on the floor – an old black slouch with the top caved in, like a lid.”“He was commonplace in complexion, in feature, in manners, and in voice. His eyes, of the usual blue, were perhaps remarkably cold, and he certainly could make his glance fall on one as trenchant and heavy as an axe… A slow widening of her thin black lips to show even, small white teeth, then the slow effortless closing.
Otherwise there was only an indefinable, faint expression of his lips, something stealthy — a smile — not a smile — I remember it, but I can’t explain.” “He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she threaded her way in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly, producing a penny from one lad’s elbow, a threepenny-bit from between another’s neck and collar, half a crown from another’s hair, and always repeating in that flute-like voice of hers: “Well, this is rather queer! When she chose to smile on me, I always wanted to thank her.”“Her face was not young, but it was simple; it was not fresh, but it was mild.
Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs.
In the shadow under the green visor of the cap Ignatius J.
A small head with a jockey cap, a skimpy little checked jacket that was made out of air …
The man was seven feet tall, but very narrow in the shoulders, incredibly thin, and his face, please note, had a jeering look about it.”“Mama Bekwa Tataba stood watching us—a little jet-black woman.