Tales from the Modern Underground

Apologies

Gray, gray eyes. People always initially complain about my gray, gray eyes. Whenever they see them, their own, brown, brown, blue, blue, green, green, eyes freeze over like Lake Erie on the coldest winter day. Some of them realize, then close their eyes and drift off to sleep. Some of them scream and flail and grab at my eyes.

Hey, that hurts.

But of course they cannot hear me. I don't understand sometimes, they have already seen the scary one. But that's okay, I do what I must. I cannot leave, for it has already been declared by the higher ups that I must. They leave with me. I feel sorry for them. So, so sorry for them. I'm sorry. Do not be angry with me.

 I live in a gray house, barren, with no trees nor grass. I've tried to plant flowers, but nothing ever seems to grow. I feel so sorry for the flowers. So, so sorry. Do not be angry with me.Sometimes people come over and sit on my couch, talking to me about my gray, gray, eyes, and how when they saw them, they felt scared, blissful, sometimes even confused. I serve them their favorite drink, smile, and tell them to go on home before their families become worried. They do so; but before leaving, they comment on how beautiful my house is. I say thank you, close the door, and return to my couch and air.

Sometimes, I go to school. I've had to go more, recently. Sometimes, I like to sit in on the lectures. I learn something new every time. Some teachers are really fun, and some of the kids even play with me. Teenagers tend not to notice- I think it's because I'm shy. But even when I arrive to school late, everyone is always crying. They cry so much that I have to change schools. The scary one always makes people cry. But sometimes, I don't know why they're crying. It makes me sad when they cry. It hurts. It's rare when someone isn't crying. They're the ones I feel sorry for the most. So, so sorry for them.

One time, when I went to school, a few girls were screaming hysterically, and a kid was lying on the ground, his shirt a crimson red. He was smiling. A buggy, screwy kind of smile. I wasn't late. I checked. Even when I am, people don't usually lie on the ground so peacefully. I ask:

"Why are you laying on the ground?"

At first the kid doesn't answer me. I ask again.

"Why are you lying on the ground?"

The kid opened his eyes. They went big as they came in contact with mine. I waited for him to scream, or flail around like the others. Instead his eyes went big, then small, then big. Yet, his face never showed any distress. Is he mute? What is he trying to say? 

 His eyes went big, then small again, then finally a normal size. His shirt changed to a bright, sunny yellow, as he closed his eyes and went to sleep. I sat a while, watching. Suddenly people from behind pushed me out of the way. They spoke in hushed, worried tones, and they seized the young boy. I tried to see beyond them, but I couldn't, they were covering him from every angle. Around, people had gathered, whispering, some even laughing. All I could see were jerking hands, worried faces, the boy on the ground with now a blue shirt, and, strangely, a glimpse of the scary one. Everyone is always crying when he's around.

So, I decided to go to class.

 But I left early,

I didn't learn anything new.

I saw the boy with a red, sometimes blue shirt, many times. Sometimes, when I went to school, I would see him alone in the cafeteria. People would whisper their normal tune about him, and he would sit there, staring at the people whispering, his shirt changing from red to blue, blue to red, but never any other color. Once, his shirt decided on what it wanted to be, he continued eating. Sometimes, the scary one would be right there with him.

Another strange thing about the boy was that he always seemed to be around the animals that I was taking care of. He belonged to the group that I felt very sorry for. As I waited for the animals to come along, his shirt changed from red to blue, to black, to red, to black, to red once more. There it stayed, until I left. For a reason unknown, he would always be around these animals, yet he would never, never, cry. 

A couple years later, I saw the same boy with a red shirt, a bit older. He left that screwy, buggy smile behind, and as he walked the halls people whispered. One of the teachers came up to him and asked him if he had taken "it". He told her not to worry, he didn't need it anymore.I decided to go to class. I hadn't been there for a while, as I was busy taking care of other places, and I was having a lot more guests than usual. Then it started. The crying. The awful, awful crying. As it did every time, my heart wailed for them. Nevertheless, I spread my wings and searched for the people who would come along with me.

As I was finishing my round, and my eyes hurt from the nails that had scratched them, I looked for the last person I needed. My instincts told me they would be in the closet in the library. I made my way there, dodging and looking sorrowfully. I saw him there. The boy with the black, black shirt, and there behind him was the scary one.

"Please hurry up. I would not like to be here anymore." I told the scary one. I would have to change schools again. 

The scary one nodded.

The boy paced around with his big weapon, with that buggy, screwy, buggy smile. He asked for other people. If there was anyone else. Then sirens rang in the background. The boy stopped, and looked at the clocks above. His smile caved into melancholy, and his shirt shifted from black to blue. There he cried. He cried a sad, long, cry. Some of the teachers coming along with me, even hugged him, and stared at me. Asking, begging me, to do something. But I could not. So I looked at the scary one.
 The scary one nodded. Then the scary one, took the boy's hand, and helped him.

As the boy woke up again, he saw the scary one looming above him, and he didn't scream, nor flail around like the others. The begging people moved from his way as the scary one led him over to me. The boy looked me in the eyes. His eyes went big, then small again, then finally a normal size. His shirt was yellow.

"I like your eyes." He said, looking at both me, and the scary one.

I couldn't answer, I was confused. I looked over to the scary one. The one with the same gray, gray eyes, and he smiled, a warm, warm, smile.

And suddenly, I felt so, so sorry.