Wounded Eyes

Good evening,
This is quite odd that I’m writing to you this late, Peter. And I apologize, but the computer you lended me. I can’t clear the search history. I know the computer is not supposed to do that. It can’t refuse to clear the history. And besides, What have you been looking up? I’ve expected a couple of links to explicit websites. What the hell is “Wounded eyes”? You sure creep me out sometimes.
– David.

I used to be good friends with Peter. We’ve known each other for seven years. My work revolves around my computer, And I broke my old one. I asked peter if I can have his old one and he basically thanked me for taking it from him. Should’ve I been the one thanking him? He also apologized. I had no idea what he was apologizing for and I didn’t care, nor did I know. I know Peter had a history of depression and anxiety, That’s why I didn’t spend much time with him before it happened. He didn’t like that. Our friendship consisted of Phone calls and sending emails. I didn’t know what was going on with him. I wish I did.

Hey, Peter!
I found and ordered some of that merchandise from that tv show you like so much! I didn’t want to wait a full 7 months for your birthday. Mind if I drop it off by your place? You’re probably not even home since you didn’t answer your phone. Are you feeling okay? Plus, I’m going to take this computer to get looked at. But you still never told what wounded eyes is. Will you tell me when you get back to me? Well. I’m pretty tired. See you soon.

The computer was really nice except for not clearing the history. Every time I tried, A link that says ‘ERROR’ Would pop up on the screen before shutting itself down. It pissed me off a bit. And I was getting a bit sick and tired of it. I tried calling Peter that night, There was no answer. Maybe he knew what to do. Until then, ill just take it to an electronics shop.

You haven’t been answering me lately. Are you okay? Are you sick? I know you hate this, but I’m going to stop by for a cup of coffee. Did your phone get turned off or something? You always answer your phone. Maybe it’s broken. By the way, I went to the electronics shop and they couldn’t help me of course.. Maybe you can. Ill be down soon.

Peter didn’t answer his door. Maybe he was out of town again, taking care of his mother. I wish I thought of that before. After getting an iced coffee, I went home and started doing my work. I’m recently in College and I do most reports to keep my grades high. It was around 3 am and I was doing a report on Ivan The Terrible. I kept typing and not caring what i typed at first. I usually go back and fix my errors, but i never made so much weird errors before in my reports. Its was like, every time I typed the word “he” .. “Is dead” would come up right behind it. I think it was something wrong with the computer. I just continued to do my report.

Hey, You’re worrying me a bit. If you go to take care of your mom, you usually tell me. And all your lights were on in your house when I came over. Please get back to me soon.

Peter was really concerning me. Maybe he was just sleeping more than usual? I drove over to his house with his gifts. His lights are still on. I carry the big box to the porch of the green small house. Peter always loved small places and being alone. It makes him feel “safe.”. I knocked on his door hard, in case he was sleeping, I would wake him up. I waited for about 2 minutes or so. Of course there was no answer. I remembered, Peter has a spare key hiding on his porch somewhere. I looked around in a hurry as the box rested in front of the door as I found the key dug deep in the soil of one of his flower pots. His flowers never grew. The key was dirty when I turned it in the door. I opened the door with the box in my hands. The house was really cold. Peter hates the cold, But he has to be home. His car was in the driveway, Last time it wasn’t.
“Pete.. I have that present for you..” I spoke as I walked around the house with a smile.
“I know you’re probably sleeping.. But I just want to speak to you..” A few steps into the kitchen. The house is freezing.
“And I know you hate it when I surprise you with visits..” More steps down the hall.
“But I got these gifts.. Have you been feeling okay?” One step to his room. I turned the doorknob. I opened the door. And there he was. Pete laid beside his bed with a wound on his face. Blood was all over the bed and the pictures of his family on his dressers. A gun in his left hand and A bullet in his right eye. I can never unsee what I saw that day. His face was so calm, Like it always was. He was wearing his favorite red buttoned shirt. Blood was everywhere. On every photo he had in his bedroom. His left eye closed calmly and his right eye blown out. I dropped the box and basically ran out of the house. It felt like something was chasing me. Like footsteps following me. I locked the door behind me before stumbling onto his porch. I basically cried there for about a half an hour before calling the police. Peter was dead all this time. I could’ve never assumed that. The police questioned me and took the body out of the house as the neighbors watched from their lawns or windows. I just couldn’t believe he was dead. I went home immediately after that. I just sat in my bedroom and stared into a wall. Images of his death just flashed into my mind. I was devastated and I couldn’t sleep. My computer started going crazy, along with my phone. I checked my phone first. 5 texts from Peter.
“Hey.. I’ve been trying to reach you lately.. Can you answer? I need to talk to you about the computer… Just don’t touch the file. Wounded eyes.. I’m sorry.”

“David? Are you on vacation or something? I was wondering if you would like to go to this dinner with my neighbors.. I would be awkward if I go by myself.. Please answer soon.”

“David.. Are you there? I’m going out if town again to take care of my mother.. The doctors are saying she’s not doing very well..”

“Hey, Dave? I’m spending the night at the hospital.. I know we had plans tomorrow.. But I think its best that I stay here until she gets better..”

“She died.. I was right there..”

I felt my heart break into a million pieces. Why the f**k did these texts take so long to send? My computer went off. I just stared at the screen of my phone. I could’ve helped him. I began to cry. My chest ached, It felt like a heart attack. But it wasn’t. I checked my computer after sitting in bed for two hours, watching the sun set out of my apartment window.
6 emails from Peter.

Hey.. Thanks for taking that computer.. I was just sick of seeing it collect dust in my room ever since I got this new one.. There might be a problem with it.. You can’t clear the history.. But that’s no big deal right? Just don’t touch the files that are there and everything will be okay with the computer…Hey.. What do you think about lunch on Friday? Ill pay.. Well.. I’m feeling sleepy. Night.

You didn’t reply to my email last night. My house gets pretty creepy at night.. I think its time for me to move out.. Or get therapy.. I keep having really disturbing dreams.. And waking up to disturbing hallucinations and smells.. You know any good therapists in town? I haven’t been sleeping much lately and I go back to work on Tuesday.. Please get back to me.

I was notified about my mother this morning. I’m going out if town for a while. She’s not doing too good. We can have lunch another day.. I’m just a bit scared. I hate driving on the highways and I hate feeling bad when my mother says I don’t visit her everyday like I used to.. I hope you reply this time. On my journey I go..
I’m planning on spending a couple days down here. Her heart is not doing too well. I’m scared. I don’t know what I would be without her.. I don’t want her to leave… Please send prayers..

She’s gone.. She’s f*****g gone.. What am I gonna do? I was such a terrible son to her.. I can’t do this..

I cried as I read his five emails. I clenched my chest and laid over my desk. I couldn’t stop sobbing. It hurt. I could’ve saved him! But I didn’t even know. I hated feeling this way. I hated it. Peter would’ve been alive of I knew what was happening.

The last email was something usual. It scared me. When I was done crying, I looked at the last one. I was expecting a goodbye from peter. But it wasn’t.



-Bullet eyes.

I just stared at the screen. I expected it to be a joke. I was f*****g sick of this “wounded eyes” b******t. I finally made the worst mistake. I clicked on the file called “wounded eyes”. At this point, I was exposed to something satanic. The home screen was a pattern of back and white and I was greeted with the words “Hello, Visitor” in red letters. I looked around for a bio of the website. There were small paragraphs that were filled with “can you see?” and only that. This website wasn’t that creepy until I clicked on “Photos” on the beginning of the page.

Very graphic black and white photos of people appeared. Dead bodies. The first picture was an old man. Laying face first at a table. In a kitchen, I think. With a fork deep in his eye and blood flowing over his food. The picture was named “Fork eyes” by the website. I gagged at this point, but I looked more. I was planning on calling the police about this. The second picture, A little girl. I think, in a classroom. With scissors in her right eye, Her other eye wide open. She was just sitting up. Lifeless. “Scissor eyes.”

I’ve scrolled through many more. From “knife eyes” to “Pen eyes”, I’ve reached “Bullet eyes”. It was a picture of Peter, Beside his bed. Dead with the gun in his hand. This pissed me off. I slammed on my desk and stood. I was overwhelmed. Who the f**k took that picture? Who the f**k would post it? Who would post any picture if these people? I cried enough for me to hyperventilate, I kneeled down on my bedroom floor and tried to calm myself down. I was too overwhelmed. I seemed to pass out.

Now, this dream is the most vivid dream I’ve had in my whole life. And the most terrifying too.

I was laying down, in the dark. In my dream, it seemed like I was on my bed. I was just staring at the darkness. I couldn’t blink. Something was pushing on my chest like they were trying to preform CPR. I looked down at my body. I’ve seen the most terrifying thing.

A creature, Long legs to the point if it stands, it would be the height of 5 of me combined. A tool was jabbed in its eyes and holding it’s mouth open at the same time. The creature was some type of human and animal combined. And the only noise it made was a creaking sound. It smelled up my body and stopped at my face. Pieces of flesh stuck in between its teeth as it stared. Its eyes were all white and bloody.

I woke up in tears. I cried to the point of me throwing up. I just sat beside my toilet, convinced that there was something in my bedroom. I had no idea what time it was. The sun wasn’t up. After a while, I stood and walked to my computer. Peter’s picture was till on the screen. I checked the time. It’s only 10:34 pm. Its only been an hour. I sighed and wiped my eyes before picking up my phone to call the police. My phone was dead. I sighed at the sight of the picture and tried to click it off the screen. My computer was frozen. It was a long night, But I managed to stay up with ease. After the dream I had, I didn’t want to sleep at all. My computer wasn’t frozen anymore. I investigated the page some more. Just to see who posted the picture of Peter. All the picture were the same person. This person called themselves “The watcher”. I clicked on his profile. The background if his profile was a video of a boy in a bedroom, Looking at his computer.

That f*****g boy was me.

There was a camera in my bedroom, Filming me. I stood still at my computer as I watched the camera’s point of view. It was located in the left bottom corner of my room, Right beside my hamper of dirty clothes. I found the camera and immediately smashed it. I was panicking. And I managed to call the police after letting my phone charge. The police were weird about it. They didn’t bother to come over and look at what I was talking about. They sort of laughed and hung up the phone. I cried ad I looked at the computer again look see the point of view of another camera in my house. I screamed at whoever was watching.
“Leave me alone!” I felt as if I was going insane.

This went on for weeks. This web page was ripping the sleep from me. I drank nothing but coffee. And I’ve been devastated ever since Peter’s funeral. I spent over 20$ on sleeping medicine for myself. I just needed sleep. Just one night of peaceful sleep. The computer would not turn off or exit the page. It just stayed on the bright screen. I was so convinced to take a handful of pills and end it all. But I was too scared to do it. I didn’t my family to morn over mu death. I fought it as much as I could. That night, I took a sleeping pill and I was sleeping on my couch by 8 o’clock. I was woken from my sleep by a loud buzzing noise coming from my computer in my room. I laid on the couch waiting for it to stop, but it didn’t. I walked down the dark hall. All I seen was darkness. I had no idea what was in front or behind me. My arms were spread out, so I could touch anything that comes up. I run into something. I thought it was my bedroom door at first. The feeling of the fabric and breathing let me know that it wasn’t a door. It was someone right in front of me. They breathed heavily above me. I shivered and didn’t move. It would run after me of I ran. I looked up and ill I saw was the glow of its red eyes looking at me. They were blood red with a black dark pupil. That’s all I remembered before suddenly waking up in my bed. My head ached and I couldn’t call off from school today. I had enough make-up work to do. I walked into the bathroom with my uniform. On the mirror, In dark writing, it said “Black eyes”. My left eye must’ve been slammed on something or punched. It was swollen and purple around. It hurt so bad. I’ve never had such a terrible black eye before. I cleaned around it and jumped into the shower. I went to my classes. I was so tired, but I slept last night.

The day was terrible, but I went home to a broken lock on my apartment door. My door was wide open. I walked into my house slowly as my walls were littered with pictures of Pete’s dead body and “Wounded eyes”. I began to cry as I immediately started packing my things. I had to leave and get rid of that f*****g computer. It took only 3 day and no sleep to pack all my things up and look for another apartment. I didn’t care. I had to get out of there. I left the computer in front of my old apartment door.

I’ve been living in my new apartment for about 7 months now. I just found out that my neighbor’s teenage daughter continuously stabbed itself in the eye with a shard of class. She’s the one who found the computer. I do feel bad, But I’m so glad I survived that horrid website. Yet, it doesn’t feel like a victory. I haven’t slept much since then. I still lie awake at night. The site would’ve either killed me or ripped the sleep from me. I want to give up. I’m too tired.


  • sonadowfangirl99

    This was really chilling and creepy. I loved it.

  • Fiver

    The piece is an interesting read, but has a few flaws. The over use of blood, the overuse of black and white and red in the file or site, the switching in verb tenses, and frequent small spelling mistakes that could be avoided with a bit more proof reading can make the piece a little more difficult to get through. The length of the piece does not help you much either. Imagery is lacking through out the piece as it seems the only part that gets real attention in the corpse of his friend. The monster sounds a little generic. There are other cliches littered through out the piece taking away from the originality. It feels a bit jumbled like a million ideas rushed into your head at once and you scrambled to shove them all in. I feel with a bit more proofreading and work this story can be great, but currently I find it only to be an ok story. Despite all of that I find it is a step or two up from the quality of a few other things I have read on here so far.

    • Konner

      The switching of verb tense was really annoying. Spelling mistakes are in pretty much all of these stories so I didn’t mind. Yes, it had cliches but over all it was good. I mean the monster was a dream so who cares if it was a cliche? Plus the first, long-legged monster was pretty original. Everything else you typed was just dumb. Not everyone’s writing is perfect. I give it 4 out of 5 stars.

      • Fiver

        Just because cliches and bad spelling are common does not mean that they are ok. I believe in giving feedback to help people grow rather than celebrating poor writing because everyone else does the same thing. The piece is sloppy and feels rushed. It’s mediocre and can be difficult to get through. I gave the piece 3 stars as, like I just said, it is only mediocre.
        Nothing I just said was dumb. What’s truly idiotic is to believe something is ok because everyone does it.

    • Dujuan MrWonderland Sims

      I would like to read some of your work. We’re can I find it?

      • Fiver

        I have a few pieces on here, one titled Under the Bed and another called Restless. My other stories are on my DevaintArt.

  • Fatal

    Fiver have you ever written something and been criticized on it if not than shut your trap

    • Fiver

      I have written a lot actually. I have been criticized a few times, but it is rare even when I ask for it though you don`t need to write or be criticized to be able to make comment on some pretty obvious flaws in a piece of writing. So no, I will not “shut my trap”.

  • Fatal

    Fiver I’m just saying maybe you should know how it is to be criticized before you do it to someone else they may feel accomplished that they have written something that they and others that aren’t as rude as you to not give a second thought and be horribly critical and not give anything positive , I haven’t even heard of any of your creepy pastas which should be demoted to crappie campfire story’s, how does it feel to be criticized Fiver, you might as well be five years old.

    • Fiver

      There is a difference between giving criticism and childishly insulting a work you have not read and even just insulting a work. I was not horribly critical. I was blunt and to the point rather than wasting my time on focusing in on things that did not need to be fixed. I pointed out real flaws and gave suggestions. I was also lenient on the rating which could have been a lot lower. I would judge by your reaction and inability to find the reply button that you are a younger child yourself who does not comprehend the benefit of getting feedback meant to help improve writing. I am also concerned by your inability to construct a comprehensible and proper sentence.

      • Konner

        XD You just got served, Fatal. Sometimes when somebody is being “horribly critical” it is to help them become determined to do better. When I started here I just wrote some simple stuff. When Fiver came back on pretty much everyone of my writings AND commented on them made me happy even though he/she was critical. I have gotten many writing rewards in my school so I know how to write but I was just playing around. Then Fiver came and made me determined to show him/her how good I can be. She/He’s actually given great tips on writing. All my teachers just give me articles and essays to write. I am good at writing and I love to write stories but I HATE writing essays and stuff like that. Fiver has actually helped me write STORIES that I WANT to write. Even if he/she criticizes to the last detail I wouldn’t mind. When Fiver does that it just makes me feel like I have gotten good enough at other parts of writing that he/she can help me even further. In conclusion, Fatal, “shut your trap.”