Death Eyes

I had to have been close to twelve years old, the whole thing was written off as a mental break due to stress and abuse. They could not have been any farther off the mark.

My mother was a pagan, I say was because she is deceased and has been since the accident. She had a habit of playing with things that, I now understand, she had no real understanding of.

On this particular day I was sitting in the far corner of her bedroom, a novel gripped in my hands. She sat with a few of her coven mates on her bed, dark hair covering most of her body as she spoke to them. What was talked about? In all honesty, I’ve not the slightest idea. I was far too engrossed in the book to care about her playing with the ouija board.

I suppose I should mention, for the sake of not missing any crucial details, why it was I sat in that particular corner.

That corner was cold, almost bitterly so, no matter the time of year. My mother avoided it, saying something was standing there that did not like her. I never had such a problem as; one, I could not see it and two, the corner always felt welcoming to me. It’s a feeling I cannot describe but, I will do my best to describe it for you.

I was both beaten and starved if I misbehaved in any manner, sometimes I would be beaten for hours or starved for days. This little corner though? If I was sitting here, no one would dare to touch me. I was welcomed here. Loved, cherished, and comforted. Mother did say once that the thing in the corner seemed to like to watch me draw or read.

In any case, on this day, Mother had made a grave mistake. Some time passed as she spoke wildly to her friends when the paddle moved on the board. I simply ignored their continued bursts of excitement and instead chose to read aloud to distract myself. This time, I felt a presence. One I hadn’t felt before. Normally the corner gave me a feeling. A subconscious tender loving, but now, I felt someone with me. The corner only grew colder. I was accustomed to this and had carefully clothed myself in a sweater, sweatpants, socks, shoes, and a beanie.

However, this time, arms enclosed me in a hug and my eyes widened. I realize it meant me no harm but, when I looked up, the women were staring. Mouths hanging open and staring. Not at me but, at the board. At some point they had begun writing down what was said to them. I did not know yet what had been said but, based on the looks, I would say it was not good.

They fled or… TRIED to flee. Try as they might, they could not open the door, the window would not break. Through this all, I wasn’t even mildly worried. I was a bit intrigued by the black masses that seemed to slowly invade the room. They pulled from objects in the room, the floor, the bed. The manner in which they floated up reminded me of a lava lamp. The gooey mass of wiggling black ink.

They began taking shape and by this time the women were huddled together in a trembling mass. The thing behind me spoke, a deep male voice slid from behind me. It left a feeling in my body, one of warm whiskey, burning subtly and numbing as it flowed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice echoing off the walls in a distinct and almost unnerving way.

My mother had lost all her color, instead she looked more like a ghost. Her body trembled as he spoke again.

“You toy with things you do not comprehend. Ridiculous little mortals. You think to sacrifice your own kin to get a response from us?” he asked in an almost condescending tone.

My mother cracks out, “I was only joking, I didn’t mean to cause an upset or-”

He interrupts her and his arms tighten around me.

“This child is worth more than anything you have to offer, not her blood but, her soul. You are worthless. No more than a show that bore her. You’ve finally made a mistake. Should not one say goodbye before they walk away from that dinky board?”

The growl in his voice at the end finally prompts me to look up. Just above me is a human like face. The general shape is that of a man, one in his early twenties. His eyes glow like fresh lava, teeth needle like, the inside of his mouth glowing in the same manner. Horns adorn his head, arm horns, Ram ears. He doesn’t acknowledge my curiosity. I look back to the group and my eyes widen. The black blobs have become monsters. Grotesque, contorted, beasts. Things I cannot hope to describe. Masses of teeth and mouths, eyes looking everywhere. Little balls of hunger and malice.

A deep throaty chuckle escapes the thing behind me and the balls zip faster than the eye can see. Ripping pale flesh off of faces, tearing clothing in their haste to eat. Blood curdling screams rip through the still air of the room. I gag and close my eyes, tears welling up. The thing turns me to his chest and gently pets my hair.

The screams rapidly deteriorate into gurgles and faint gasps before vanishing all together. I am trembling in the creature’s arms as it gently coos to me like one would a baby.

“All done little one. No more torment for you.”

I woke a few days later in the hospital. Tubes attached to my arms, the faint rhythmic beeping in my ears. He was perched on my bed. His head tilted and a smile cracking his face, sharp teeth coming together with a clack.

“Good morning sunshine.”

For years now he has been with me. He asks me for nothing, but follows, commenting on things he sees. He’s not alone either. Creatures surround the world that used to be empty. Gaping jaws, searching eyes, and body less screams. They dart about. They lurk. They consume.

When they consume, you are gone. Simply here one moment. Gone the next. They were right when they said that people don’t just disappear. They forfeit their souls to these demons. One of which has decided I make a good companion.

So many I have watched die. So many I have watched be eaten alive by things no one else can see. Monsters. Demons. Creatures of darkness and misery.

Let me warn you now, before you fall prey. Keep yourself clean. Be a good person. The moment your soul is darkened. You are at risk.

I have watched. I know.

They can smell filthy souls. Some wait and torment you in dreams or misfortune. Some make you ill. Some eat you alive or kill those you hold close. It’s all a punishment.

You will die.

One way, or another.

They will have your soul.

  • Aj Cockrell

    It really was a great story I liked it alot and it was really an interesting one if you have more I would love to read them