Snow in his Eyes.

He was right behind me. I could see his eyes from where I was hidden. They say evil has red eyes signifying pure evil. Hell. But his eyes, they were different. They were blue, almost like the desert around me. Almost like Paradise. But they didn’t bore those kind amiable and angelic eyes. He wanted to get me. He wouldn’t leave me alive.

I tried finding a way to hide better as he came closer. The rocks had gaps between them and one small exposure could cost my life. I couldn’t even dig the snow to bury myself for he would notice me. And there was no running away. There was nothing around to save me. There was only the vast white expanse. Not even a giant rock or a fucking cabin.

He took a few steps towards me. I bet he knew where I was hidden. He was just playing around. He must have had a great time seeing me run like some poor deer caught in the eyes of a vicious lion. I didn’t know how he did it. He could transform his body somehow, no, I don’t know what he did back there. He became water, he became a wave. But not like a huge tsunami wave. Yes, he definitely was a moving tsunami, but he was long, almost snake like that spiraled around chasing you until your legs give up, and sucked you up like a whirlpool. But there he was now, just like one of us, in the form of a poor doctor who didn’t know what came for him. But those eyes. Those unworldly eyes.

I tried everything to stay frozen, out of sight. He stood grim admiring my patience, my courage. He thought I would give up and run. I searched my pockets for more bullets. I knew I had none, but I hoped for a miracle. But no, nothing. Except, the pocket knife I picked up from the warehouse. The thing wasn’t even sharp enough. But I didn’t have any other choice. It’s either this blunt weapon or my life. I grabbed the knife tightly, gripped it like it was the last thing dear to me.

I waited. I couldn’t even breathe properly. Out of breathe in this freezing place – not an ideal place to be in a situation like this. I could see his knees from my angle. His feet were drowned in show. I still wondered about burying myself under the snow. As outrageous as this idea was it was far better than doing nothing. But it was too late. He stood still waiting for me to give up. Waiting for me to give my body so that he could have a nice young flesh in his collection. I feared I was the last one alive. Everyone was gone. He moved but didn’t take any step further. Instead, he stamped his foot on the rock. He was planning to push them away. Could he? I thought he was intimidating me. I had to do something. I had to take a chance. My life depended on it. Hell, the whole world depended on it.

He stamped his foot again. Harder this time. He grunted. He was trying to shoo me away by scaring me. What struck me? I didn’t know. Was it because of Charlie and all the others at the warehouse who I hoped were still alive? Was it my girl back home? Maybe. But I felt it was this sick bastard that surged me up – and for the best.  I made a big snowball as quickly as I could. This was the silliest idea, even more than burying myself alive. But I did it anyway. I made a snowball as big and as hard as I could. And at the next moment, I jumped and threw it at him hoping it could distract him even for a second. Yes, it did. He backed away and grunted. He was momentarily startled. The last thing he expected was a surprise attack by the lone survivor. I pushed him to the ground and kicked him hard on the head. I threw my gun at him like a rock. He eyes went wide, he couldn’t put the pieces together. I pulled the knife and stabbed him as hard as I could in his heart. Once. Twice. Thrice. I saw blood. He slapped me but I stabbed him again. Four times. Five times. He heaved. He staggered in pain. I tore open his shirt and sliced his chest and hit him again. Before I could slit his throat, he gave a wild cry and pushed me away. I fell behind but before I could stop him, he was already up. I froze in disbelief. He was breathing heavily, he was wheezing. He stood in front of me, his body in red, threatening me with his eyes. He covered his chest with his hands. Trying to put his heart back inside to where it fit in. He wouldn’t make it. I cursed him and kicked him to the ground again and sliced his throat.

Normally, when a person dies he stops breathing. But this bastard, whatever he was, he became water again. The minute I killed him, he exploded into a big puddle. Even the pool of blood had vanished. I feared he had become a wave again so I ran behind. But no, that was the end of him. As I came back to that spot, I saw something which shook the crap out of me. It was an animal, at least it looked like one. It looked like a small monkey. It lay dead in a fetal position, its knees pulled towards its chest. But its head – it had no head. I couldn’t even see its skull. I could only see its brain which was as white as the snow around me.

– Viveck

Photo Credit: Pthah


6 thoughts on “Snow in his Eyes.

  1. ^Absolutely. I’ve often found myself dreaming in settings not different from what I read/watch before going to bed.

    Vivid story! Kafka-esque in some ways. Good work 🙂

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