Bonus points to anyone who can identify the inspiration for this one. [b][i]the eyes[/i][/b] By the eyes They all think I'm crazy. They all call me mad, insane, broken. I'm not though. Could a crazy man have been so careful? So stealthy? I don't know why I killed the man. I think it was the eyes. The things I've seen in that… That device. Enough to drive a lesser man insane, but they only cleared my vision. I see, I [i]hear[/i] everything. Sounds from above and below, sights from beyond. Night after night I stalked the old man, he was kind to me, but there was something, something bright about him. He had light, and I had to consume it with dark. This I knew to be the truth for the eyes spoke it to me. Night after night I stalked him, so quietly, so [i]carefully[/i] no one could detect it. For 6 nights I watched the old man, I waited as a cat waits to kill a mouse. I knew when I struck it had to be perfect. The old man never left his study, he just lay and slept. I needed no sleep for the eyes had showed me how to use his dark to help me. Each night I would open the door as to fit my head inside, and nothing more. I would lean in slowly Oh [i]so[/i] slowly. I would peer at him but it was never right. This I knew for the eyes told this truth unto me. On the 7th night I knew it was right. I opened the door more than usual, as to fit in my body and nothing more. How could a broken man be so careful? This is what I ask of thee. On that night I entered the room, quieter than a mouse, and I gazed at the man. I felt his light. It hurt. I inched toward the man, closer and closer. I felt his light, I heard his heart. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP But no, my hand had hit the wall, the man sat upright. He stared into the dark. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP I did not move, I knew he was afraid. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP I stayed there hours, not moving a muscle. Could someone insane be so patient? So cunning? THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP The man lay again. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP The thumping had to stop. I drew my knife and charged. The man shrieked THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP I raised my knife above his chest. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP I brought it down into his heart. ... The thumping ceased. It was done, the man was dead. His light faded. I hid the body under the floor, cleaned the blood, it was perfect. Could someone broken have been so careful? So acute? It was when I had finished there was a knock. It came from the door. I answered the door, took the men on a tour of the house. I told them “look, search everywhere.” I brought them to the study, I sat them in and gave them food and drinks and chairs to rest. I put my chair right above the body. No one could ever have known. Then, I felt it, I saw it and heard it. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP I pretended to not hear it, it was the heart. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP It grew louder and louder. His light burned me. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP They must hear the heart! They must feel the light. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP The light was burning me. The man must live! THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP They must hear it! They were mocking me! They knew they knew they knew! THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP I yelled it out. FINE! I did it I killed him! Look here under the floorboard. The thumping stopped. He was dead again. His final act had killed me. This I knew for the eyes had told me. [b] [i]I tell this story as a warning. What will you see in there? What will I do to you?[/b] [/i]