Bright Eyes

Chapter Three

Looking into the eyepiece of the camera, I move my right index finger against the slider on the top left and focus on the first person I see, which happens to be a young man throwing something in the distance to an expectant black dog. Nope. To the left of him I see a woman standing by a child piling sand into a small blue bucket. Not him. Behind her I see a lady balancing a brown guitar on her lap, turing the silver pegs on top of the instrument. Still not him. To the far left I see a boy skipping stones across the wide blue ocean. Jackpot.

Sticking my tongue out I zoom in closer. Just like the black haired boy, his hair also whips around his forehead ever so gently, like falling petals from a cherry blossom. I take in his appearance and notice that he looks less put together, slightly a mess. His blue tee shirt is wrinkled, shadows form from where the flimsy material brunches up. The hem of his pants is rolled up to his calves and his shoes still seem to be missing.

I press my index finger along the small zoom button on the top left once more to see the outlines of his face. He looks peaceful as his head bows down, almost angelic. His head rises to look at the sky, and his veil of hair drifts back, a few pieces sleep on his forehead, moving slightly as the breeze kisses his skin. Then he levels his head and a frown line cracks into his delicate forehead. His eyebrows furrow down, and he turns his face to the left. In an almost audible snap, he shifts his head and stares right at me. His eyes are a crisp deep blue, and as they look at me miles away, they blaze through his face and burn onto my soul.

"Impossible" I mutter, my fingers glued to the camera. There is no way he could of singled me out ike that, I have to at least be fifteen miles away. I shake my head and press my eye into the eyepiece of the camera, praying that he can't see me. This time, his head is turned; some of his blonde hair is sticking to the nape of his neck. I zoom my camera out to see what he's looking at. The black haired boy walks briskly onto the sand, his mouth fluttering quietly again. I watch him gracefully dance to the light haired boy who points the other boy to the left as he starts walking towards the opposite side of the cave. I flash my camera back to the light haired boy as he begins walking towards his friend, when the black dog flashes by, momentarily stealing my attention. As I watched the dog zoom ahead of the boy, out of the corner of my eye I see him glare once more directly at me. I take the camera off my eyes and place it gingerly on the pane of my window. "Whoa", I mutter to my self. He wasn't looking at me, there's just no way he could see me.

After 5 minutes of tossing the idea of him knowing I'm stalking him, I decide it's safe to resume my spying, and peer through my camera once more. Standing on one of the round grey rocks, the blonde haired boy resumes skipping rocks into the ocean. He seems to be using a lot more force this time; I look at his face seeing his lips moving quickly. To the left of him few boulders down, the dark haired boy sits with a notebook and pencil. I zoom in on the notebook and see the pencil glide across the page. His head is arched down, concentrating on his masterpiece. I zoom out, watching and waiting for them to go into the cave, or do something unnatural. Minutes pass with no change in behavior. Just as I am about to peel the camera away from my face, the blonde hair boy jumps down into the sand in one fluid motion. My heartbeat quickens, maybe he is going to shoot webs out of his fingers or vanish into the air. He then squats down to graze his finger against the sand and sit. He shifts his body back and lays down, tucking his hands under his head and crossing his tan legs.

I put the camera down, sighing as I stare out into the ocean. The water is becoming unruly; the waves beat against the shoreline, besieging the sand with its watery soldiers. A drizzle starts to crawl from the clouds and in the far distance a crack of thunder travels to the air, shaking the trees, trembling the sea.

I place the camera to my eyes and see the woman lift up her child in a hurry, dropping the blue bucket into the sand, letting it slip into the sea. The musician stares up at the sky, perplexed. Looking to the far left, I see the blonde boy dust off his jeans and throw something invisible towards the other boy. The dark haired boy jumps up, his notebook falling into the sand and says something to the other boy, who throws his head back and laughs. Suddenly I begin to feel self-conscious. What am I doing? Why am I staring at two strangers like some old pervert? Mabie all of what happened last night was a dream or, maybe I managed it. Maybe this town is getting to me. Am I going insane?