The Eyes

Another glance at the clock, and I feel my forearm brush against something it shouldn’t as I reach for my glasses. I have thirty minutes to get across town, and I’ve just knocked over the vase of daisies on my kitchen island, spilling water onto yesterday’s untouched mail. 

“Not the time for this…” I mutter to myself, tossing a rag from beside the sink on top of the mess and moving on. I cannot be late; I have to get this job. For years, I have studied and built up connections, all in the hopes of one day having a chance at this job; the interview has finally come, and it needs to be perfect. 

I’m slipping on my shoes (patent leather with buckles to match the jacket that- of course- I’ll have to grab before I head out as well) when I am startled by a knock on the door. My surprise shifts quickly to frustration when remembering exactly how little time I have to spare, and my flinging the door open is less than graceful. The slight furrow in my brow falls away; my jaw drops open a bit even, when I see there is no one on my stoop. The leaves of a bush to the right side of me rustle abruptly, but still, no one is there. 

My eyes shift slowly to the ground, where a mismatched looking amulet is laid. The chain is long, dainty, and silver. The charm attached to it is large, a purple-green stone encased in gold; it looks as if the weight of it could snap the chain easily. A torn-out piece of notebook paper is laid on the ground underneath it with a message scrawled in large font: “Your gonne need this”. 

 …

I’m not superstitious, but on a day like today I’m taking no risks. I wrap the chain around my fingers within the pocket of my jacket. With a speed in my step, I walk out from my apartment building towards downtown. The sun is shining, although clouds cover parts of its radiance, and block out portions of its warmth. An autumn breeze blows, consistent and cool. I click my phone screen on, and check the time: 12:43. I walk a little faster. 

My first turn comes far slower than I wish it would, and after a block and a half in that direction, I turn again into the alleyway as planned. The shade hits, completing an atmosphere so different from the one before, as I carry on the the narrow aisle. 

Past a trash can, a recycling bin, and then a strange looking man; I’m attacked. Another man runs out from behind a corner in the bricks, and says something in a language I don’t understand. The first man already has me held around my body and both arms, and through all my fighting against it, he lifts me up and throws me at the ground. I’m rushing at the ground. I brace for impact, but it never comes. 

…

Just barely opening one eye, I can see that I’m no longer in the alley. My other eye flashes open. I must have really hit my head; I must have just been out cold, and not been able to feel any of the damage. I check my head for blood, sore spots, anything. I only had my eyes closed for a moment, I swear it. 

The room around me is all dark red, lit by single candles in each corner. A monstrous blue eye hangs above a large door, and I find myself to be the only item inside. I would much prefer if this was some sort of hallucination. I take a deep breath, and I can feel something in the air as I pull it into my lungs. I am filled with dread. 

In this very moment it occurs to me to check if the door is unlocked, and I clamber from my knees to do so. The eye watches me scurry toward it. I am beneath it. I twist the doorknob and the door opens, though I feel a modicum of strength leave me through my wrist-turn, and through the pushing open of the heavy door. 

Relief at the change floods me, though in a moment I take notice that this room is around a square foot smaller, the eye in front of me an inch or two bigger, and the candles just a slight bit farther melted. I run for the door. Unlocked, though I feel a fragment of my strength leave me with the opening. The Eye looks down on me. I move quickly.

Room after room, smaller and smaller, eyes bigger and bigger. In one room I notice that the walls appear to be dripping with some sort of undesirable squelchy substance. In another, the candles are coated in it. In another, candles flood the walls; some soaked in red, others still white. All burn at different heights. The Eye glistens with a billion twinkling lights.

The room just after this is different than all the rest, opening into an expanse larger than even the first room. The walls are covered in wallpaper with inter-crossing lilac and mint colored fleur de lis patterns all along it, and there is no Eye to be seen. A long table is set along one wall, silver-lined tablecloth draped perfectly over it. A plethora of tools are spaced out along the length of it: a beautiful, old looking dagger, a key, a rusty spade, a jeweler’s glass, a toothpick, a file, a mallet and a railroad spike. 

I run my fingers along the cloth, underlining the tools, questioning their purpose in this game.  I doubt each step towards the door. Not being watched in this room does not feel comforting, as it maybe should. It feels unsettling. I feel insecure. By this time, I feel weak- drained of strength by door after door stealing life from my body. 

I give everything I have left to the opening of the door. I twist and pull at the doorknob. I even throw myself against the door itself; not a single budge. I turn back toward the table of tools and I see, above the far door, a clock. The time reads 12:50. 

“No shot.” I mutter to myself. I feel as if I've been here for hours at least, if not days. Room after room I've gone through; fifty, or a hundred, or five-hundred. I couldn't say. It's been seven minutes, and I still have an interview to get to. I hurry back to the table. 

My mind is pulled back to the state it was in just seven minutes ago now, though flustered and crazed from what felt like months in a never-ending hallway. My hand shoots into my jacket pocket, where the strange amulet still sits, wrapped around itself like a viper in the shade. I pull it out gently, entranced immediately in the gem’s hues. Without a second thought, I grab the jeweler’s glass and hold one side of it to the stone.

My right eye moves slowly toward the glass. The other eye closes. An image appears and pieces itself together in my mind: an eye, rolled upward just slightly. The waterline is flooded with blood, and the crimson drips down from there. My eye pops open wide at the sight, and my head pulls back away in pain. The jeweler’s glass and the amulet both fall to the ground as I bring my hands to my eyes, blinking and groaning. My hands, now wet with blood, quiver before my face. I cannot see them, but I can feel the truth of what has happened. 

I can no longer see at all, but I remember the key on the table and recognize my stupidity. Waving my hands around the room, I try to find the table. My hand hits it abruptly, and I adjust my movements to be far softer. I begin to pat the tabletop, feeling unfamiliar shapes and attempting to pair them with images. At long last the key is found, and I make my way toward the door, waving my arms more slowly and gently now to find it. I fumble with finding the shape of the doorknob and with the proper orientation of the key, the position of the keyhole and with the motion of the door itself.

On the other side of the door, I feel the warmth of real, full sunshine on my skin. My eyes still writhe within my skull, and with my mind now unoccupied, the pain comes back at full force. My joy is cut off as I fall to my knees. I do not know where I am. I do not know what has happened to me. I do not even know if I am alive. Sobs fill the air for I know by now, I absolutely must be late.