The Eyes

It was three years ago. I never want to relive those events again, but the memories are etched into my mind.



I had just moved into my new house and was eager to look around the neighbourhood before school started in two days. I got out as a soon as possible, wanting to get away from my violent siblings.

It was an extremely foggy day and I could only see a meter in front of me, my kind of day.

As I walked down my street I came across an old homeless man who was crying. I walked up to him, tossing the idea of giving the money I had in my pocket to him, when he looked in my direction.

It was probably the eyes, but something about this man wasn’t right. His grey hair was a mangled mess and his face seemed so pale I could see right to his skull. The tattered rags he used as clothing was torn in about fifty different places. But the eyes, they seemed detached, as if they were looking in another place, not where they actually were

“D-don’t g-go in there,” he sobbed, “It’s the eyes. THE EYES!”

“It’s okay” I said, trying to console the man, but it seemed he didn’t know I was there, it was like, he was not there.



I continued walking and came up to a primary school. I walked in, and felt out of place. The place was pale, in greens and browns but in an off tone. I noticed that on the bike shed, someone had sprayed the two letters “XD” in blood red paint''. Stupid vandals ''I thought.

I kept on walking and felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out to reveal a text. The text was from a number I had not seen before; the numbers 1234567890 on and on about fifty times. All it said was “XD”. Just looking at the message gave me the creeps.

I continued walking when I came to what must be the prep area, judging by the art on the windows. And the fact that a banister with the word “prep” written on it in big letters. Although on it, the letters “XD” were again sprayed on it.

The “XD’s” were starting to creep me out but I still went forth.

Another buzz in my pocket and I pulled out a text from the same person as before, saying “XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXDXD”.

I was starting to get properly scared now; I could tell this was much more than an average prank. Who was behind all of this was my main thought. But my brain and my body are two different things; as my mind wanted to go back home, my body went on through the fog.

The next few minutes passed by with nothing significant happening, mostly the odd “XD”, not too exciting.

<p class="MsoNormal">When I got too where the school seemed to end, I saw a stick, perfectly straight, hook at the end, made of a strong wood, I had to pick it up. People say that I am a hoarder, and they are not wrong. Some things just interest me more than others.

<p class="MsoNormal">As soon as I pick it up I felt another buzz in my pocket. Probably just that creepy weirdo again.

<p class="MsoNormal">I hear a noise behind me and spin around to see a bunch of shrubs against the area underneath the classroom. My curiosity was piqued and I moved closer to the shrubbery. The bush was a small weedy thing that I pulled out of the ground. When I saw what was behind, I almost had a heart attack. There were what looked like dead children, all hanging from their necks under the classroom, about the age of four, completely naked, and carved into their stomachs, were the two letters… “XD”.

<p class="MsoNormal">I stood there for about a second, gaping. Then I heard a sound, like the wind, but a bit too coarse. I saw their eyes slowly open, eyes the colour of blood. And then they started howling. A sound no human mouth could make.

<p class="MsoNormal">At this I ran, all the way home. I didn’t stop until I was in my bedroom. I could not do anything but sit there, on my bed for hours.

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<p class="MsoNormal">When I had regained my senses, I called the police. I told them about the dead children underneath the classroom. They sounded unconvinced and asked me where the school was. I told them it was on Muller Street. They sounded confused and suggested some psychologists to me. They said there was no school on Muller Street.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Ever since that day I have felt like eyes have been always watching me. I have tried to go to the school again but I can never find it. And when I look at people, sometimes their eyes flash blood red, only for a second. They must be telling me something. Maybe.