Bits & Pieces

The Power of the Eye

     It is true what they say, that eyes are the windows of the soul. They have a unique ability to convey a spectrum of emotions. To collect and showcase multitudes of stories. And even to conceal secrets that only upon gazing deeply can you truly unravel them. They are, indeed, the purest form of natural and biological magic. And for that sole reason I fear them ...

... Standing alone, under the glow of the pale moonlight, I am blanketed by silence. The only sound that can be heard for miles is the rustling of the trees by the cold winter breeze. As I begin to drift back to my ever-turbulent mind, I sense a shift at the side of my body. Snapping my head to the side, I see nothing but the flickering of the yellow streetlamp. I turn my head slowly and suddenly appearing before me, as if materializing from thin air, are a pair of gleaming blue eyes. They stare at me with such intensity that a cold chill seizes my body yet I do not fear them. Astonishingly, those clear blue eyes hold so much warmth and joy, it was practically palpable. Gazing into them, I can't help but feel safe and loved. It's as if I have been waiting my entire life for this moment. As if long lost souls reuniting at last. Suddenly, the air around me begins to shift, prickling my skin. Darkness creeps over those glossy eyes. Slowly and tentatively infecting every pigment until the pale blue eyes are replaced with ones as dark as the night sky. They've become pained and tortured. Welling with images of worry, hurt, anger, and anxiety. Dread washes over my body. I am hit with a sudden urge to comfort, to return the happiness, to ease the pain but how? Ransacking my brain for answers and still locked in this never-ending staring match, I'm met with the most horrid sight.

     The eyes are no longer dark and foreboding but transfiguring to a stormy grey. The pupils shrinking before my very own eyes, as if all memories of me are fading away, slipping into the unknown. They no longer look at me like an old-time friend but as a mere stranger. Panic and terror bubbles within me threatening to explode. I become desperate. Frantic. With my own eyes, I plead and beg for them to stay, to not fade into the fearful night. Despite all my attempts, no recognition, no movement occurs. All they do is stare, unblinking, not at me but past me. My heart turns heavy as I witness the eyes shift, turning cloudier, murkier. My heart trembles as the eyes drain of all color right before me. My heart shatters as I stare back at nothing but transparent glass. No emotion. No life. Overcome with sorrow, I finally break the trance and collapse. Landing on my knees, I begin to weep, shoulders shaking with the force of my own cries. As I start to recollect myself, I realize that the eyes have not vanished. I want to look up. I need to look up, but I am paralyzed with fear. Frozen with terror. What feels like an eternity later, I finally build up the courage to do so.

     As I meet them again, for a filleting moment, I see a spark. Was it real? Or a glint, a dark trick, from the full moon? Try as I might I am unable to pry my eyes away again. A pull mimicking the force of attraction has taken hold of me. I'm hoping against all odds, hoping against my better judgment, that those vacant eyes fill with life, color, and memory once more. Will they? The answer may ruin me.