The White Eyes

Mary was sipping her warm tea and reading the daily newspaper. She was sitting down in her red Ruthanne chair, with her walker in front of her. She had the windows open and felt the cool breeze of the fall air hit her delicate skin. She has lived by herself ever since her husband, Steve, had died a few months ago. Thank god. She thought to herself. If he didn't die soon I might have called the cops on him.

She takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. She was dedicated to her marriage, even though Steve was not the best person in the world to be around, especially when he got angry. She has bruises and scars on her body that she sustained while being with Steve. It was only bad when he would drink, but regardless, before he died he came at her with a knife, but luckily he fell over and broke his hip.

He died in the hospital with that injury. When she pulled her fingers from her eyes and opened them, she saw two blurry white eyes, staring at her from a window. "Hmm?" She says aloud and pulls up her glasses, but when she was able to see, the eyes were not there. She chuckles "Well these old eyes are continuing to fail me." But she was sure she saw something.

She slowly gets up onto her walker and figured it was time to go to bed, since her eyes were playing tricks on her. When she stood up and looked down the dark hallway she saw a shadowy figure standing there, right at the foot of the stairs. She adjusts her glasses and it seems familiar. "Steve?" The figure does nothing but stand there. She takes off her glasses, blows hot breath on them, and cleans them with her shirt. Mary pulled the glasses back up to her sightline and didn't see anything.

She shivers as she feels what felt like hot breath going down her neck and smelt the awful stench of Jack Daniels and Newport cigarettes. Steve's favorite liquor and cigarettes. She shutters as she starts walking down the hall and she hears someone behind her. "Yes Mary..." The voice was deep and somewhat gurgly. But it sounded.... like Steve. "It's me. I've come to bring you home."

"Home?" She found herself replying, hoping the voice would not respond.

"Yes. You'll like it where I live." He chuckles. "It's cold, dark and everything is dead. Like your heart."

Mary feels cold wet hands grab her ankles. She screams as she gets dragged through the house, using her nails as she digs up the carpet, hoping for anything to grab onto to save her. Eventually she was dragged outside the back door, scratching the cement then the dirt. She gets pulled into a hole in the ground and when she opens her eyes, the hole closes, laying dirt on top of her. "Now we're even." The voice says in the dark.