I felt no pain when my right eye was taken from the socket. It happened in a flash. The doctors and my parents insisted I’d had an accident, but I had two eyes back then and I saw what really happened. I saw him; The Sandman.

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After all the visits to the hospital and all the treatments I was fit with a glass eye. Some kids made fun of it but I was still able to return to normal. The doctors said I wouldn’t be able to ride a bike or climb trees like the other kids. I refused to believe it. I adapted quickly. I persevered and lived my life.

That is, until he came back. 

As of late, I’ve been seeing things through my empty eye socket. The doctors say this is impossible, and the more experienced ones call it a Phantom Eye. It’s much the same as when an amputee feels an itch where an arm or leg used to be. 

But I know what I am seeing through my vacant socket. I recognize him. It’s The Sandman. I see him through my socket all day and all night. He stands there, a lean figure with snow white skin, beady mustard eyes, and a witchy, birdlike nose. He paces and skips and sometimes dances, too. So while, in my right eye, life goes on like normal, in my left eye he exists in his pitch black void. I wonder where he is; if it is a limbo of sorts, or if it is a place of his creation. If it’s the latter, he made it rather dull.

When I lie in bed at night, all I can do is wait. He’ll be back. He will be in my room just as he was when I was 9 years old. And he will take my other eye. But the worst part won’t be that I’m blind. The worst is that all I will see is him.

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