Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25054431-20140612145821

This is a short story I have been working on. Please let me know what you think?

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They say that the eyes are the windows to our souls; they are wrong. Our eyes are not windows, but they are doorways. They are a vast gateway into the very essence of who we are. Our eyes are the unguarded borders for our immortal selves.

They say a lot of things. But who are they? Who is imparting the glorious wisdom we pathetic souls cling to for guidance? I am not referring to a sacred tome or divine knowledge; I am referring to something much more sinister and far less provocative in appearance. The kernel of truth cloaked in a sugary lie that we gladly accept; we gobble it down by the shovel full.

Our daily lives are guided by wisdom we blindly accept. These superstitions we wrap around ourselves like protective medallions and our cultural baggage that are slung over our shoulders to weigh us down; they oppress us and vex our lives.

Ridiculous nonsense such as “Don’t step on a crack!” why, to spare our mothers? No, so that our gaze is cast down, and not on the ravenous vultures preying on us from above. It is a bow to them, servitude to the would-be masters; who conduct our lives like a chaotic symphony.

Malicious immortals lurking in the dark places; they pull our strings, making us dance like puppets. They are the authors of our confusion. They are the master of misinterpretation. They are laying the tracks of our very fate.

Our desires are twisted and perverted to match their own and to meet their ends. Shall we continue blindly suckle on the rotten teat of these pipers of the damned? Shall we break free of this bondage and oppose the demonic foes that plot against us? I pray so.

Be cautious my friends. These demons are a crafty lot, casting obstacles and stirring the tides against the awakened. The doctors here call me crazy. Who is really the crazy one? I protected myself by closing the gateways to my soul. The plastic spoon they brought with my lunch worked nicely, taking each eye out with a little tug and brief sucking noise followed by pop. Now I am protected. Now they can’t get me.

Why wait to protect yourself? The doctors pleaded with me to think about what I was doing. But why would I do that? After all, you know what they say, “He who hesitates is lost.” 