Since earlier that same evening-- the devilish sight of the boy’s stare taunted my mind and because of this event my natural human instincts took over, like light sweeping over a dark room, as I entered the comfort of my bedside and for the whole night I stared away from my doorway, sleepless but motionless.
After two and a half hours past my eyes at such speed it seemed endless, my dark clock struck twelve and a large creaking noise from my door passed through my ear like a hammer smashing on the floor below. My mind was telling my body to turn without any succession, for my eyes were already peering towards my desk. Through my desks dusted mirror, my sight revealed the very same boy that I and my fortune had restored to health. For one long hour the child’s dark-- disturbing-- shadow glistened upon my still back until he appeared to my no more and my door closed, leaving me in total darkness once more.
My following morning arrived sooner since the boy left my room, and I decided to keep all of my memory of the night before-- secret from his ears. As the boy left for his errands at the town, I entered the strange traveller’s bedroom, but as I crept to his door like a gazelle past a rested lion, I had doubts about all events. As I grasped his door handle, I pushed it open-- and his true mind was revealed to all.
My pupils were dazzled along with my mind; I was seeing true evil-- it would seem that the child had-- he had been obsessed, his walls were covered from his patterned roof to his mud covered floorboards with artistic drawings with its leaked scars of-- my demonic eye! I fell back to the floor with my startled discovery, why-- why couldn’t I see it-- he was obsessed, he was going to be the death of me.
As another night dawned on my great manor, I knew he gazed upon my sleeping body, his tortured mind and room covered my nightmares. That child-- that monstrous devil was observing my sleep, he-- he’s insane!
I walked down to the boy in no hurry after an hour passed from my awakening, as always the boy was sitting alone at the large table-- acting as if the night had never crossed his eyes, he was acting completely oblivious of his evil actions.
Once again after his breakfast, the boy had been set off to the city for food-- at which point my mind commanded my return to his room and as told I left for more investigation about the child’s addiction to the stare of my eye.
After what seemed hours of reading of the boy’s diary, I had been blessed with more knowledge of the child’s crippled mindscape-- it seemed that he did not care for my illness, but instead called it a mere ‘Vulture eye’ and that it was mocking him passed the insanity I thought he-- he had. What was wrong with that disturbed child? Why else is he obsessed with my illness? Why was he found like this? I hoped that his diary would find out all these questions and more that haunted the very corners of my brain in the next couple of days.
For the next three days I continued with this tactic hoping that it would go undetected, after the boy left I would search his dark belongings to find anything of importance-- but on the sixth day something rotted my core, the child had drawn over the pictures of my eye with a large red cross. I stared and stared at all my pictures hoping to see one different from the first but I did not succeed but instead I lay back on the floor with my eyes closed in a painful way. But as I opened my eyes to stop the pain I saw a picture more horrific than any I had seen over the least week. On the roof the boy had drawn an enlarged image of a crying eye, but at closer inspection the tears were blood and eye was but my own.
I must have glared at the eye for hours until I heard the boy rise up the stairs towards me, I panicked from this and sealed my self in his closet. He entered the room not long after with pencils in his-- his hand, then before my very eyes he drew another picture of the vulture eye. The boy had gone too far into his inner madness-- he will want my death if he continues like this-- I swear he will!
After the sudden awareness I slept fowl for the night ahead, under threat and fear that my mind was truthful of my fate. Why would the boy kill me? I meant no harm to him, I nursed him to health, I-- I cared for him for weeks, but this-- this is going to far even for a psychopath like him.
It struck twelve, and as I waited for the child with a knife under my sheets, but just as I thought the boy turned up like on cue from a theatre play as done from the nights before. As I peered at him through my desks mirror-- the words ‘do it… do it before he does’ echoed through my head, but then something odd happened, I-- I had thought to myself what I was doing, I mean what did the boy ever do to me? Nothing, nothing at all, and I knew he wouldn’t harm me. It was just my own psychosis doing any harm to both of us. What was I thinking? My own mind got paranoid and insane-- the boy loved me and I loved him to, I slept after this event after being calmed.
This morning I was full of happiness, the child left for his duties and the day was like the first week he arrived, I was happy to be with him, and he really made my life great and cheerful after I had calmed the night before.
I wrote the story of the last couple of days to be open with the world. I had done wrong and thought that is anything happened to me he should know that I love him and that I am thankful he exists. I grow tired now but I will give this to the boy tomorrow.
M.J.Hannson
