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One Blue Eye

by Jennifer Childers

By Jennifer ChildersPublished 2 years ago 23 min read
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“Keep running, Gabe.” I heard the voice, but couldn’t place it. They were right behind me. Why was I running? What was this ringing in my ear? Why was my vision blurring? Why was my heart leaping from my chest?

I tripped over my own feet and fell face first into the dirt, coughing, bile rising quickly in my throat. “I’m gonna be sick,” I cried, already heaving into the dirt below my shaking palms.

“No time, get up!” I finally looked up and realized the voice that had been urging me along had been Ray. He grabbed me by my collar and dragged me along the dirt. “You can be sick later, we have to get out of here!”

“Wait, where’s Alex and Chief?” I whined.

Ray smacked me across the cheek. “Shut up!” He ordered, “Stop your crying, stop asking questions, just run. We’re not going to talk about this, we’re just going to run.”

Talk about what? I wanted to ask, but there was no time as Ray continued dragging me at a burning pace.

I thought back, trying to remember what happened. But next thing I knew, I blinked and was in my front yard, throwing up on the grass, trying to catch my breath. Ray was sitting a few feet away from me, breathing heavily. “Look,” he said, “don’t be a squealer. We’re gonna be dead if anyone knows about this.”

“Uh huh…” I choked, spitting out more vomit. I collapsed finally, panting loudly, the grass tickling my face. My throat burned, my muscles were throbbing, my head felt like it had been struck by lightning. The ringing in my ears continued. “Ray,” I finally said, “I don’t know...what just happened…”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Good,” he said, standing up, back facing me. I could see Alex and Chief jogging up to him. They were both covered in mud.

Chief pointed at my shirt, “I would change out of that quickly if I were you,” he said. I looked down at my mustard colored shirt, surprised to see splatters of blood on it. “Wash your face too,” he continued, “you’ve got blood on it.”

“Where did this come from?” I cried, tears of confusion rolling down my cheeks.

“Hey shut it,” Alex said, kicking me on the knee, “you heard Chief. Go take that shirt off and clean your face!”

I nodded, sniffling, as I struggled to find my footing. Chief helped me up and walked me to the door. “Some last day of summer break,” he muttered. He opened the door for me. “Your parents home yet?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I tried to get a hold on myself.

“Okay, then you have time,” Chief said calmly. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Wash up good.”

I nodded and closed the door. I found my way to the bathroom, seemingly by accident. My body sure wasn’t in control of itself, my brain felt like a tangled cassette tape.

I took my shirt off and threw it in the garbage. There was more blood than I thought. Was it mine? It had to be, right? Where else would it have come from? But I couldn’t find any openings in my skin that would have caused the bleeding.

I jumped into the shower and immediately started scrubbing as hard as I could. I scrubbed hard enough to break the skin on my face and arms and legs. I thought maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, my memory would be rejuvenated. With the calm water falling over my body, I tried to retrace the day.

Let’s see: I woke up, I ate breakfast, the boys came over and we played video games for a little bit before deciding to head out to our mound in the dunes. When we got there we saw someone sitting in our lawn chair atop the mound...Who was it? Someone we didn’t want there. We started climbing…

That was it. The only thing I remembered after that was running through the forest with Ray. I tugged at my hair and whimpered. Why don’t I remember?

When I got out of the shower, three hours had already passed. I lay in bed, knees tucked to my chest. Tomorrow was the start of a new school year. Whatever it was that happened here, I was going to leave it behind and start over.

*****

I didn’t sleep at all that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing a blue eye staring at me. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel sick and scared. Just a single blue eye with visceral emotions that I didn’t understand.

When I showed up at school, my friends were quieter than usual. I felt a strange pit of despair swallowing me up.

The teacher called roll. Everyone was present, except one person: Arnie Runyon. “Hm,” the teacher said, “weird...He always has perfect attendance.”

Chief and Alex glanced at each other. Ray stared out the window. I thought nothing of it, but the nervousness in their expressions felt unwarranted.

Everyone at school knew Arnie Runyon, but not in a good way. He was a bratty kid, and really weird. He smelled like cheese and picked on me for an incident from third grade where I got pantsed on the playground and everyone saw my privates. Most people had forgotten about it...But not Arnie. He still liked to bring it up and torment me in other ways, typical bully behavior.

The worst was when I brought my hamster to school. When everyone was at lunch, he reached into its cage and squeezed him so hard his eyes popped out. I was devastated and angry. But my mother and teachers all told me to be the bigger person. “Arnie has some cognitive development issues. He doesn’t always realize when he’s doing something bad.” But that, paired with all the other things he had done to me--Cognitive issues or not, I would never forgive him.

After a few days, Arnie still hadn’t returned. It was during lunch that I walked past the bulletin board and saw a “MISSING” poster for him. I stared at it, feeling nothing. Attached to the poster was a color photo of him. There was something in his eyes that was hauntingly familiar. Probably from all the times he’d hurt me in the past.

*****

I lay in bed that night after looking at the poster, and thought about Arnie and the sick satisfaction I felt of him being missing. I hated myself for feeling that way. I didn’t want to feel that way about anyone. But it was so hard to not feel the slightest bit of relief knowing he couldn’t hurt me anymore.

I fell asleep that night, dreaming back to being at the dunes with my friends. The sky suddenly turned red and my hands were clutching something. I moved my fingers to see a blue eye staring at me. I tossed it into the dirt, crying. My tears were blood. I hear a voice that I recognize, but at the same time feels foreign. It’s just screaming in agony. My eardrums felt like they were bursting.

I woke up wanting to puke and with a ringing in my ear. It was the most realistic dream I had ever had. The screams still stayed with me for the whole day afterwards.

*****

For some reason, after that day at the dunes, my friend group and I weren’t the same. I tried to keep us together, but it was clear no one wanted to be together. Alex was with the art kids now, Ray was playing sports, Chief was by himself a lot. I ran into him in the bathroom one day.

“Uh, hey Chief,” I said.

He looked startled to see me, but only gave me a faint “Hi,” before quickly washing his hands and leaving. I tried to follow after him, but he was walking quickly.

“Hey!” I called.

He stopped and turned around. We called him Chief because he was the leader of our pack. He was the tallest, strongest, and most confident. But he looked pale and thin now, like he was slowly wasting away into crepe.

“How...How have you been? I don’t really see you guys anymore.”

“Yeah,” he said, I could tell he didn’t want to talk to me, but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Uh...I got a new video game,” I said awkwardly, “wanna come over and play with me?”

“No thanks,” he said. The skin around his cuticles were bloody and chapped.

“Chief,” I said calmly, “I don’t really know what happened...that day...But…”

Suddenly he pushed me against the lockers. I yelped, though I could tell he was careful not to use enough force to hurt me. He towered over me, but his head was down, refusing to look at me. “Gabe, don't take this the wrong way, but...” he said, voice breaking, “Can you just, like, leave me alone? Seeing you reminds me of that. And I don’t want to remember any of that.”

“Chief, it’s frustrating for me too, I…”

“No,” he hissed, putting his hand over my mouth, “what did I say? We were never going to talk about it again. And I want to keep it that way.” He released me from his tight grasp and stepped back. He sniffed. “Just...don’t talk to me, okay?”

“O-okay,” I stuttered.

He walked away, wiping his eyes. A missing poster of Arnie Runyon was on the wall opposite me. It stared at me. I thought I saw the mouth on the poster twitch in a derisive grin. I closed my eyes and ran away.

*****

A few days later, I was pulled out of class to go to the principal's office. I saw Alex, Ray, and Chief all sitting in the office too. I gulped and pushed the door open. "Gabe Wiseman," the secretary said, "take a seat."

I eagerly went to take a seat beside Ray, but he moved the bookbag into his seat without so much as glancing at me. The sting of betrayal and confusion tugged at me. I chose a seat near the secretary's desk, away from the other three.

The principal's door opened, and two police officers walked out. One of them forced a smile at us. "Hey boys, no worries, nobody's going to jail. We just want to ask you a few questions." The principal stepped aside and the officer waved the four of us into the room, which they were using as an impromptu interrogation room.

He closed the door and leaned against the desk, his co-officer watched us closely and pulled out a notepad. "So, we've heard from some people that our pal, Arnie Runyon, liked to pick on one of you."

"Gabe," Alex said coldly.

The officer looked at me, "This true, Gabe?"

"Yeah, sometimes." I admitted. "Does that mean anything?"

"I'll ask the questions," he said. He bent down and looked me coldly in the eyes, his coffee breath blowing into my face. "Did you see Arnie Runyon at all the night he disappeared?"

"No sir," I said.

He glanced at my friends. "What about you boys? You all look awfully gloomy."

"We didn't see him, sir," Ray said.

"You're all friends with Gabe. So am I correct in assuming that if Arnie were picking on your buddy here, that you guys would come to his aid?"

"Yes sir," Chief and Ray both said. Alex kept his mouth shut.

"Alex, you're a little quiet. Something wrong?"

"No sir," Alex said, "look, if you're thinking we killed Arnie or something, you're wasting your time. We don't know where he is or what happened."

The officer looked at Chief whose knuckles were turning white as he dug into the arm of the chair. "You alright, Gregory?" The officer said.

Alex glanced at Chief. "Hey Chief, okay?"

Chief covered his mouth, but it was too late, he vomited all over the floor before passing out. Ray and Alex grabbed onto him before he fell into his own mess. The officers scattered to get the attention of the principal and call an ambulance. I tried to help Alex and Ray carry Chief, but Ray swatted my hand away. "Butt out," he hissed, "he's fine."

As I left the office, I heard the officers talking quietly amongst themselves. "I don't know, Gabriel seems pretty relaxed...I don't think he's in on anything. But the Gregory, that kid knows something. And I think the others are trying to cover for him..."

*****

The next day, the rumor mill was running wild. Chief was nowhere to be seen until around noon. "He hurled when the police were questioning him, he has to know something...He might even be in on it!"

"Of course he is. You know how close he and that kid, Gabe, are. He definitely killed Arnie. Probably trying to protect Gabe."

I could hear this whole conversation these kids were having. And Chief, sitting just a few rows over, clearly could as well. He looked even worse than he did the day I ran into him in the bathroom. He must not have slept or eaten for days.

I tried to catch Chief on the way out of class just to see if he was okay, but he disappeared into the crowd.

That was the last time I ever saw him. The next morning, it was announced he had gone home, found his dad's handgun, and put a bullet in his head.

*****

That was the nail in the coffin on our friendships. Alex, Ray, and I stopped speaking completely--barely even acknowledging each other's existence. So when my parents announced we were moving out of state for dad’s new job, I almost felt relieved. I didn’t bother telling them, all I could do was wait until that day came and I wouldn’t have to worry about why our relationships fell apart, or feel the guilt and shock of Chief's sudden and tragic death.

Moving away proved to be a great decision. As the years went by, my odd nightmares started to subside, and I stopped getting blackouts. I felt perfectly normal, and had almost even forgotten about the strange feelings that had crept up on me since that day at the dunes. The only lingering fear I had was of blue eyes. It was a strange trigger, but every time I looked into someone's blue eyes, I felt sick. I could never look them in the eye.

*****

I was twenty, in my third year of college, working night shift at a convenience store. One night after my shift I walked down to the 24 hour coffee shop to get myself a jolt of caffeine. My classes started in just two hours, not enough time to go to sleep.

I looked at the magazine rack in the shop and my hands glided over a fine arts magazine with a familiar face on the cover. It was Alex! He was a fairly successful painter now with an exhibit coming to the city just thirty minutes away from where I was going to school.

Despite not speaking to him since middle school, and our parting not being the most amicable, I wanted to see his work up close and maybe catch up with him. I thought about Chief every day. I don't know why he killed himself. Maybe he was the one who killed Arnie after all, though that seems hard to believe. He was a genuinely good person. If Chief were alive, he would have wanted us to be at least be on good terms. It was clear we could never be friends the way we used to be. But Chief never wished ill on anyone. If he didn't want to speak to me, he must have had a reason. I needed to see Alex and talk to him. Even if we could never be friends again, maybe we could at least have closure.

*****

The night of the exhibition came, and I had a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s because things were tense the last time you saw him, I assured myself. But before leaving, I grabbed some weed from my roommate to mellow myself out. I sat in the parking lot of the exhibition hall, hands still shaking as I smoked.

I finally gathered my courage and walked from my car to the exhibition hall. As soon as I opened the door, I was greeted with brilliant paintings and sculptures. The paintings were expressive, and visceral. I looked all over the room for him, but couldn’t find Alex.

There were various portraits of women, they all looked like they were screaming in horror or pain. It was macabre, but it seemed to draw a niche crowd of people who were interested in such genuine expressions of agony.

I wandered to a painted wooden board, it was caked in high contrast colors, with red splashed down the middle. It was oddly transfixing. The title card drew my attention: “Memory of A Summer” is what it was called. It was abstract, but I felt like I knew what it meant. My vision blurred slightly as I focused deeply on the red paint merging in the wooden crevices. There were nails caught in the red. Something about it felt familiar.

I heard Alex’s voice across the room speaking to some exhibit goers. Deeper, now that he was older, but I still recognized it.

“Take that shirt off and go clean your face,” I heard him say. “Get outta here, Runyon, or else.”

His adult voice merged with his preteen voice, the words echoing right in my ear. “Runyon…” I said quietly. I hadn’t even thought about him since middle school. What an odd thing for me to hear Alex saying. I glanced up and realized I was zoned out on a canvas as tall as the wall in front of me, and just as wide. It was all black, but a white lemon shaped oval filled the center, and a blue circle inside of it.

One blue eye.

I backed up, my heart beginning to palpitate. These images again. I thought they were gone, but they were in front of me. How did Alex know what was in my head? And what was it about this blue eye that followed me? There was red paint coming from the eye--tears of blood. But it was moving rapidly towards the floor.

It wasn’t paint...It was blood, real blood.

I covered my mouth and moved quickly through the crowd to the nearest bathroom. Only to be stopped by a strong hand. I looked up and saw Alex towering over me, his brown eyes staring at me. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I…”

“How dare you come here now…”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean...Didn’t you see the art? It was my way of processing that messed up crap we went through as kids. I was getting better, and then you show up.”

“Alex,” I said, taking a step back, “I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about, I just heard you were having an exhibit and wanted to be supportive.”

“Well I don’t want your support, I want you to leave.”

Over his shoulder I saw another familiar face, refusing to make eye contact with me, though they could clearly hear the conversation.

“Ray?”

He didn’t acknowledge me. He turned and walked in the opposite direction. Alex grabbed me by my collar. “Leave him alone...All of this is your fault.”

“Me?”

“Yeah you, now get out of here! I want you to leave.”

I could feel every eye in the room focus on me. All the eyes seemed large and intruding, like they were slowly caving in around me.

"Alex, I really don't know what you're talking about. Is this about Chief? You think that was my fault?"

Alex balled up his fist and punched me in the jaw. Several people gasped and ran to restrain both of us before a full blown brawl exploded in the gallery. “Don’t ever mention Chief to me!” Alex said, tears streaming down his face, “You’re the reason he did it. He was just a kid!” Large, angry tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought to land another fist on me, being restrained by the exhibit goers. “He had so much potential, and you killed him!”

“Hey, hey,” Ray finally snapped back to the conversation and grabbed Alex by the shoulder. “Chief did it to himself.”

“But he wouldn’t have if this worthless kid didn’t--”

Ray smacked Alex across the face, “Shut it,” he growled, “we’ll talk about it after the show.”

"You think I don't feel bad about Chief?" I asked, "Of course I do! He was my best friend...You all were."

"Get out!" Alex screamed, his voice as agonized as his artwork.

“Sir, I think it’s time for you to go,” it was museum security coming to escort me out. I didn’t fight it, I let them drag me from the premises as I watched Alex pale-faced and sobbing run away from the crowd at his own show.

I went back to my car and turned the radio on while I continued to smoke through all the joints I had brought with me. I was stoned out of my mind, too stoned to drive. I put my car seat back and lay down staring at the car ceiling while the radio played.

I caught the tail end of a Talking Heads song: “Same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was…”

As the song faded out, the radio announcer began to speak: “Almost twenty years after his mysterious disappearance, the family of Arnold Runyon are still looking for answers…”

I reach over to change the station manually, but my hand slips and tunes into static. I don’t bother changing it. I let the static act as my music for the remainder of the night. I glanced out the window and saw the moon was full and blue. It watched me as I began to fall asleep in a stoney haze.

*****

Remember, Gabe?

You, Alex, Ray, and Chief headed up to the dunes that day for your special mound that you liked to hang out on. When you arrived, Arnie Runyon was there, sitting in one of your beach chairs. He knew this was where you and your friends hung out. And today he was bored and ready to have some fun with you. Your friends told him to scram, but he didn’t. He was a bigger kid, a dumb kid, and had no manners. You were the smallest, and his natural target.

He walked to you, like always, you froze and stood still as he yanked your pants down. You were ready to cry from the humiliation. No matter how many times he taunted you, the pain never managed to dull. Arnie laughed crazily pointing at your crotch, “He still has that Tic Tac sized weenie from grade school! What a girl!”

You could only stand still and accept the abuse. “Hey, knock it off!” Chief said, “What did he do to you?”

“Get outta here, Runyon,” Alex said, hurling a small rock at him, “or else.”

Arnie laughed at them. There was a wooden plank on the ground that Ray had brought the other day to use as a baseball bat. Arnie picked up the plank and walked to you as you finally found the will to pull your pants up, tears stinging your eyes.

“Hey, don’t even think about it!” Chief said.

But it was too late, Arnie whacked you on your bare bottom with the plank. The pain was gutting, splinters pierced your fragile skin. You yelped and grabbed your buttocks, crying.

“Crybaby, crybaby,” Arnie taunted, “Gabe’s an ugly little crybaby with a tiny weewee.”

“Alright, I warned ya!” Alex tackled Arnie, Chief joined in. They all started throwing punches at each other. You stand off to the side, feeling angry and violated. You knew you should be glad your friends were fighting for you, but it wasn’t enough. You were tired of Arnie beating you around. You wanted to show him your anger as well.

You picked up the plank Arnie had just hit you with as Chief and Alex continued to wrestle the kid into the dirt. “Don’t mess with our friend!” Chief shouted.

“Yeah,” Alex said, “he’s too weak and stupid to stick up for himself!”

Ray sees you clutching the plank, your hands shaking in rage, your eyes going crossed from the adrenaline. “Gabe, what are you gonna do?” Ray asked as he watched you lunge towards the three boys. It was then Ray noticed a rusty nail sticking out of the top. “Gabe, wait!”

“Eat this, Runyon!” You shouted, clutching the board.

You took the board and smashed it over Arnie’s head. The rusty nail pierced his eye. Chief and Alex, shocked, got off of Arnie and stood back, watching in horror as you continued beating the board on Arnie’s head. Arnie was screaming for you to stop, blood swinging from the board onto your shirt and face. You heard his screams, but you couldn’t stop even if you tried. You were possessed.

You were always such a mild-mannered boy, that your friends didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t do anything. They were all in shock. Arnie’s screaming got weaker and weaker before a nauseating silence filled the air, punctured only by the sound of you pummeling the board onto Arnie’s empty head--the same squishy sound as driving a hammer through a melon.

Ray finally had to wrestle you to the ground and take the board from you. You came to your senses. All four of you stood silently in a semicircle around the fresh corpse. His face was unrecognizable. On the ground was Arnie’s blue eyeball, staring at you.

“...He’s dead,” Alex said.

You realized what you had done and fell backwards onto your bottom. “I...I didn’t mean to--”

“Shut up,” Chief said, he turned to Alex, “we’ll take care of this...Ray, you and Gabe get out of here.”

“I didn’t mean to…” You said, “I meant to hurt him but not...Not…”

“Quiet,” Ray said, “run, Gabe. We need to run.”

You sobbed, “I didn’t mean to--”

“Shut up and get moving!” Alex shouted as he began digging a hole in the ground.

You turned and ran. The blue eye, though dead, seemed to follow you as you disappeared into the horizon with Ray running behind.

Horror
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About the Creator

Jennifer Childers

I just write thoughts on anime, games, music, movies, or other things that are on my mind. Occasionally a poem or short story might come up.

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