Your Eyes

Her eyes haunt him like bright, blue translucent poltergeist, banging on the walls of his mind incessantly. They have hammers for claw hands and they’re banging with the insistent side that begs for the nails to be pulled out from his skin.

No matter, since they only intend to nail them back in again. Then pull them out, then put them back in again, ad infinitum.

The room in which he sleeps is dark save for the faint glow of the computer monitor that is barely noticeable and the darkness caresses him and hides him. But, whether he opens or closes his lids, he sees those eyes and they absorb the light inside him, leaving only darkness. His memory’s tapes will not erase the image of that face and those eyes because he once stared too deep into the abyss of her pupils and, well…

We should all know what happens when monsters spend too long staring into the abyss.

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