The Other Eye

Funny thing about people... just when you're starting to get used to being in their empty socket, they go and trip, fall down, or get in a bar fight, or get slapped, or get hit by a bus, and you go flying out to land who knows where.

I think I'm in a pile of leaves and rubbish near some kind of drain. With my luck, it's a miracle I didn't fall into the drain.

I wonder how the old chap is... can't say I like the thought of being left here for days or weeks or, god forbid, months.

It isn't that I mind the smell. I can't smell after all, wrong organ. What gets me is the darkness. The nothingness. I can't even tell if it's day or night out there above the leaves. Sometimes I think I see a ray of light coming through. It's difficult not being able to move yourself to see better.

People, the ignorant sort at least, always say that glass eyes are fake, that we can't see like so called "real" eyes. The idea! I can see just as well as any normal human eye. The problem is that the humans can't see through me. It has nothing to do with the eyeball... all to do with the connector thingys from the eyeball to the brain.

At least that's what all my real eye friends say. Real eyes... they have it all don't they? Muscles that let them swivel to look at whatever they want. Connected to that massive image processor of a brain, Righty says he can even control the movements of other parts of the body. The power goes to his head I think. He doesn't say it, but I do think it gets tiring, doing the work of two real eyes.

I wonder the how old man is. He was one of the best, you know. Maybe the best. Always cleaned me every morning and night. I got my own little bed in a wooden box with a latch that kept me safe. That always made Righty jealous. He still has dream duty at night while I get to sleep. Being a glass eye does have it's advantages... as long as you aren't abandoned in the leaf pile that is.

Something is happening. I can feel vibrations in the ground. Someone must be out there. Maybe looking for me? In the leaf pile stupid, look in the leaf pile! The vibrations have stopped. Can't they have looked for more than five minutes?

Well... it's dark again. This time pitch dark. I think this must really be night, the stars and the moon covered by clouds no doubt. I think it's cold because everything is a bit frosted over... I mean, what I can see of the black patch in front of me is a little more blurry than normal. I think so at least. Hard to tell. Wish I could say how long I've been here. It's always so dark. In here, time doesn't move the same as out there.

The worst part is I don't know exactly what happened. We were in the garden. He was pulling weeds from the tomatoes. Then, he just stood up rather quickly and did a strange, stuttering walk, and then I think he just fell down. And the next thing I knew, I had popped right out, flown a few feet, bounced off a garden hose, and landed in this pile in the corner, near the brick wall. The drain was the last thing I saw before it all went dark. Funny place for a drain... where no one would ever see it unless they knew it was there.

The drain and me, two silent companions brooding in the dark under decaying plant matter.

Another day arrives. It's definitely brighter out there - that or the wind has shifted some of the foliage to let in more light. I can almost make out the details on the back of this leaf here. They really are intricate; leaves. All those lines and veins and splotches.

There. Something is happening again. It's like the vibrations the other day but stronger, shakier. It would probably be loud for a human. It feels sort of similar to when he would drive a car. All shakes and bounces. A motor must be involved... lawnmower maybe? Some sort of weed slicer?

The thought of a lawnmower blade spinning through the leaves, shattering me into a million pieces, isn't a pleasant one.

A leaf blower! The realization explodes in my mind as the leaves explode around me like a tornado. The light is blinding, but I'm glad for it. I'd rather be blinded by the light than by the darkness.

The force of the wind rolls me a few inches toward the gaping mouth of the drain. But then I snag on the stem of large brown leaf.

The wind fades all at once, and the shaking stops. The leaves all float down around me, some nearly covering me again. If I could cry I might. Why doesn't someone find me? Why can't they see me?

But I'm wrong. Someone does see me. I see their shadow falling over me now. They've picked me up. I'm flying through the air on an unfamiliar hand. It's dark again as the hand closes up around me. The world is shaking. I think he's running.

Light again. I'm inside the house, in the study I think, judging by the green carpet. The room somersaults around me as I roll down the palm of the unfamiliar hand, into a very familiar palm. It's old and wrinkled and all lined with years of work and life.

The hand holds me gently as the fingers of the other brush off the dust and dirt. The two old hands polish and scrub and wipe for a few minutes more, with water and soap and a warm cloth.

And then, I am right back in the empty socket. Safe.

"Lefty! You're back. Rude of you to leave like that. Where have you been all this time?" Righty says through the nose wall.

I would roll myself if I could; or smile. "I've been making the acquaintance of the corner drain and several rotting leaves. You?"

"Ah... I don't fancy I'd like that much. I've been sitting right here, but at the hospital. The old man had heart attack. But he's alright."

The words send a chill through me. A heart attack. Time always goes too fast. "So are you...alright. Get it?" I say, and he groans at the joke.

Funny thing about people - and eyes - you don't know how much you'll miss them until you do.