Demon Eyes

Spookay

There was a man named Mr Jones who worked as a teacher in the local school. He wasn't married and spent most of his free time reading old books about art and architecture. His favorite passtime was taking trips to visit old churches and other buildings.

One day, while leafing through one of his books, he came across a chapter about an old church, fifteen miles outside of the city, that had a very elaborate painting on the wall. Apparently, the painting was from the 12th Century and depicted a detailed and intricate vision of hell.

Bright and early the next morning, Mr Jones hopped in his car and drove the fifteen miles to the church he had been reading about. He had to walk across a muddy field and climb up the side of a steep hill, but eventually he followed a long path and arrived at the small church, which lay hidden beneath the shade of several ancient yew trees.

The old wooden doors of the building opened with a creak and he stepped inside. The church was very small and the whole of the back wall was covered by a huge painting. Beside it, was a sign that read, "Do Not Touch." As Mr Jones drew closer, he realized that it was actually a fresco. The artist had applied the paint directly to the plaster on the wall.

The design of the fresco was very remarkable and visually striking. Hell was represented by a series of concentric circles, that spiraled downwards into a deep chasm lined with roaring flames. On the top level, stood a group of people whose faces were twisted in despair. They were throwing themselves off the edge, onlt to plummet into the depths of hell. The circles at the bottom level were populated by gigantic demons with angry, malignant faces, who carried lances and pitchforks in their clawed hands. They speared the sinners who fell on their weapons and tossed them into boiling cauldrons full of blood and bones.

The leering faces of the demons were extraordinarily detailed. They had gnarled horns growing from their scalps, their forked tongues were hanging out, their bodies were covered in thick fur, their ears were long and pointed, their huge feet were twisted into hooves and their bulging eyes were the color of blood.

"I wonder who painted this," mumbled Mr jones to himself. "Whoever it was certainly had a vivid imagination."

Mr Jones bent down to examine the painting more closely. Some of the demonic figures were less distinct than others. One of them was vague and blurred. It was a demon who held some kind of weapon in his hand. The odd thing about it was that its eyes were bright red and they seemed to glow with an eerie, unnatural light. Mr jones gazed at it in fascination, staring into the demon's eyes.

He noticed that the section of plaster on which the hideous demon was painted was cracked and crumbling. It seemed as if it was about to fall off the wall. Without thinking, Mr Jones reached out and touched it. The fragment suddenly broke off and fell to the ground, leaving a small hole in the fresco.

Mr Jones was horrified. He had accidentally destroyed part of an ancient and priceless artwork. He was an unintentional vandal. He felt like a mischievous child who had accidentally broken his mother's best vase. Worried that someone would discover the damage and blame him, Mr Jones quickly left the church and went home.

Later that evening, a twelve-year old boy was returning home when he got the fright of his life. He was walking along the path opposite the old church. It was growing dark dark and the path was bordered by thick bushes on both sides. All of a sudden, he heard a rustling noise in the undergrowth behind him. The boy picked up a stone and threw it in the direction of the sound. Just then, something black and hairy emerged from the bushes and, quick as a flash, climbed up into the trees. The boy was shocked and stared up into the branches for a moment. He caught sight of two eyes staring down at him – two horrible, glowing red eyes. Terrified, he ran off down the path and didn't dare to stop until he reached his mother's cottage.