Old Man Story    by Daniel Prado

Old Man Story

I lived a rather comfortable life. I had a warm bed, good food to eat, money and riches, a beautiful house, and a caretaker that watched over me like a guardian angel. This man had never wronged me or given any insult to me but something about him scared me. 

He seemed like he wasn't quite watching over me with well intent. He never seemed malicious, no but something, something was off. I couldn't tell if it was the way he talked to me, no, he was respectful and kind. Or maybe it was the way he stared almost longingly into my eyes, yes my eyes, he could never seem to take his own off mine. It was strange but what was more strange was that I heard a creaking of the floorboards and a tapping of feet approaching my room, and I saw a dim light approaching me.

This man stood there, maybe to check on me, his intentions I was not sure of, but it made me uneasy because he stared, stared directly at my eyes. It was like he wanted to take them out of my sockets and use them as his own. I have always prided myself on my eyes, they shine brightly like gems but never would I have thought that one might covet them for themself, the thought unsettled me so when he did this I made sure to pretend I was asleep so maybe it would make him leave, but when I fell asleep it was almost as bad as my waking hours. I was tormented by dreams about this man gouging out my eyes, using them as ice cubes in his drink, gouging out his own and using mine, I even had dreams where the man just stood and stared at me, I wasn't sure what was a dream and what isn't anymore, and I didnt know how I could protect myself from him! I was tortured by my own thoughts, my own mind! And his gaze! I felt like I was losing my sanity which I had prized above all other things, and then I had a horrible thought: maybe if I gave up my eyes I could keep my sanity, I pushed it away but I found more thoughts going through my head and repeating over and over and over like a broken record. And then I heard an unfamiliar voice in my head, the voice of the man. He said to me in a cracked raspy voice. “Your eyes! Yes! Give me your eyes!” I responded to him and asked him why he wanted them. He responded saying that it was because my eyes were evil in some way. I didn’t understand what he was talking about. “My eyes arent evil!” I said to him. “You have the eyes of a vulture!” He said right back to me. This argument continued throughout the night, until I finally drifted off to sleep.

This man stared me down at midnight every day for the next week. I didn't know if Ihad come to enjoy it or if I was afraid, every night adrenaline rushed to my head and my senses sharpened. I was ready for this man and whatever he might do to me.

On the final night, the eighth night. I heard him creeping into my room, I heard the familiar sound of his creaking footsteps. Only a madman would think he could sneak his way into my room. I mustered up the courage that I had sought after for the past seven nights and said “who’s there?” though I already knew the answer. The man scurried away like a small beetle and I felt the urge to sleep. My body had suffered through the long nights I had laid awake through listening to the man stalking me, and although I sometimes slept it gave me no rest. I laid my head on my pillow and a world of dreams enveloped me completely. In my dream, although pleasant my heart beat madly as if warning me, trying to tell me something. I let out a yell to silence my beating heart, my heart silenced, and I breathed in. I never awoke from that dream. 

And here I am, a shadow, a mere memory. I will retell my story to those who listen, deep in their dreams as I watch over them, I remember that night in which I died. I watch the eyes of the people close and open again, and I remember mine.