Eyes watch. Eyes judge. Eyes see the unseen. But most importantly, eyes are the window to the soul. Take me for instance, at first glance, you would assume I’m some basic girl who probably goes shopping a whole lot. But take a look into my bright blue eyes, and you’ll see I’m a puzzle. Harder to solve than a rubix cube. Unknown, quiet. A real spectacle.
You’ll see I have an eye for a story. They do say eyes are a camera, and I’m always remembering, capturing every. Single. Moment.
Wow. That makes me sound like a creep. It’s true, I do like recording ideas, but I know the value of privacy. I will not be knocking on your door at 3 AM. I know, I know. I’m too kind.
I yawned, typing furiously on my grey laptop, finishing my newest short story. The words flowed with ease as my eyes scanned the page. I could feel it. The warmness and uncertainty to my words… It was a comfort to know my ideas weren’t just thoughts, that they could be transformed into a… google docs document… Wow, I have such a way with words.
I sigh, slamming my computer close. The crickets from outside echoed in my ears, an eerie sort of silence forming. It wasn’t unusual for me to be home alone, my parents always did choose work over me.
Part of me longed for the company, another part lingered on the silence. The comfort of just me and my own words. I wouldn’t have to share my time, or be interrupted or have to share popcorn. Maybe this is the loneliness talking, but I really do enjoy some alone time.
I drummed my fingers on the long brown desk. My fingers felt like chalk, I’d been typing so long.
Ugh, time for a much needed break. I stood up from my chair and made my way to the door, walking slowly to the kitchen. I stifled a yawn. Man, if kitchens had a cliche contest, mine would for sure win. Black and white tiles lined the floor, and the fridge, stove, and counters sat in an even line.
I opened the fridge. The cool air hit me, refreshing my body, as I grabbed out a soda. I opened the can, pouring the tasty liquid down my throat. I took one sip, then another, obsessing over the sharp taste it left on my tongue. I set it down on the table, rubbing my eyes, as I check the clock. 3 AM? Jesus. I started writing at like nine! What the heck is this logic?
I sat on the table, stretching my arms. Most people would tell me to go to sleep right now, after all it’s freaking 3 AM. It’s like I want to star in a horror story or something. But the tired energy makes me feel… Alive, in some strange way.
My vision wavers as I spot a glint of red near one of the cabinet doors. I realize it isn’t completely shut. What is that? I steadily move to the cabinet, crouching to its level.
What the actual-
I pick up the small object, examining it. Was this thing recording me this entire time? I reach up and throw it into the trash can, backing up slowly.
Oh my god, do you think my mother set up surveillance or something?! She’s going to kill me when she finds out I took one of my dads sodas... How long was this thing up??
What if it wasn’t my mother, what if it was some creep? My thoughts are endless as I rummage through my mind, searching for the perfect answer.
A whisper ran through my ears as I felt a hand touch my neck.
“Don’t let it take your picture…” The voice came from behind me.
I screamed, spinning around, only to see nothing. My mind. It’s playing tricks on me, that’s the only explanation. Paranoia rises in me as I start frantically searching the rest of the kitchen, how many cameras are there? A sigh of relief escapes me. There’s only one… In the kitchen anyways.
A shiver rumbles down my spine as new thoughts enter my brain. God, I need to stop thinking! I’m just being paranoid; I should just go to sleep. When I wake up, I’ll end up laughing at myself and telling this story to my future grandkids.
I drag my feet to my bedroom, collapsing on my soft pink bed. I feel myself sinking into the covers, as I see a glint of red on my dresser.
My hands shake as I reach for my nightstand to find…
A camera. Pointing right at me.
A shadow hovers over me as all words leave me, my tongue completely dry.
“Eyes watch. Eyes Judge. Eyes see the unseen. But most importantly.” The voice pauses, blood dripping from my nightstand. “Eyes are the window to your soul.”