When I Look into Her Eyes I See


(Credit: Joshua Rodriguez on Unsplash)


Her eyes aren’t windows

To some soul hiding within.

They are a mirror.


Two small Eerie Ones (1 of 2)


(Credit: Luke Braswell on Unsplash)

The painting reminds me of the Mona Lisa.

A woman sits in the foreground.

A smeared landscape behind her.

A slight blush in her cheeks.

She is very naturalistic.

I have heard that some people do not like pictures like the Mona Lisa.

They are bothered by how the eyes seem to follow one around.

However, the eyes in this portrait do not follow me anywhere.

They only follow my sister.



eyes watching

It was like telling herself not to think about polar bears and having them swimming and running and hunting down all the other thoughts in her head. Did her thoughts taste like seals? And then they popped up again; the eyes. Eyes all around her. Only seldom did she catch the people on the street looking straight at her, but she could feel them always. And if she closed her own eyes, they only grew bigger in her mind.

So she fixed her stare on the cobble stones in front of her feet and strode on until she left the town and the sun went down. It did not seem like anyone followed her, but still she kept walking all through the night and the next day too.

When she reached an old battlefield, she let herself heave a sigh of relief; here were only scorched grass, dirt and bones. With the sigh, the strength left her body and she slumped to the ground. She rolled onto her back ready to finally sleep soundly, but then utter horror gripped her. The eyes, there were millions of them, strewn across the heavens they glinted down at her and she knew there was no escaping their judgement.

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