The Eye
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The Eye has been with us now for...days? Weeks? It's hard to tell. Since it has appeared, the searing white gaze never leaves the sky. There is no more night. The Eye is restless, and it searches. From our rooftops we can watch it probing, a blinding beam out on the water that burns through the undulating mists gathered to shroud its source.
The search never quite reaches the coast, for which we are grateful. There is an acrid tinge carried in by the breeze when the beam swings past. That gaze is raw intent. We feel it. It prickles through the air like a static charge and where it strikes the ocean is left smelling of fear-sweat.
Sleep comes fitfully, if at all, now without the dark. Our initial wonder when the Eye first opened soon became fear. That wilted into fatigue until finally there is only resignation. We think it has been even longer than we are permitted to remember.
Something watches. What? We don't know. To what consequence its seemingly inevitable discovery? We cannot guess. But it wears us, this constant consideration without clue. We begin to worry.
What if this is the real way of things? What if everything that we knew of before was in truth but a momentary respite from an actual state of being, all having transpired in a single blink of this baleful eye? Realization sets in like icy fingers tracing up the nape to grip the scalp. Our future begins to look very, very much longer than our past.
And the Eye searches on...
The Eye has been with us now for...days? Weeks? It's hard to tell. Since it has appeared, the searing white gaze never leaves the sky. There is no more night. The Eye is restless, and it searches. From our rooftops we can watch it probing, a blinding beam out on the water that burns through the undulating mists gathered to shroud its source.
The search never quite reaches the coast, for which we are grateful. There is an acrid tinge carried in by the breeze when the beam swings past. That gaze is raw intent. We feel it. It prickles through the air like a static charge and where it strikes the ocean is left smelling of fear-sweat.
Sleep comes fitfully, if at all, now without the dark. Our initial wonder when the Eye first opened soon became fear. That wilted into fatigue until finally there is only resignation. We think it has been even longer than we are permitted to remember.
Something watches. What? We don't know. To what consequence its seemingly inevitable discovery? We cannot guess. But it wears us, this constant consideration without clue. We begin to worry.
What if this is the real way of things? What if everything that we knew of before was in truth but a momentary respite from an actual state of being, all having transpired in a single blink of this baleful eye? Realization sets in like icy fingers tracing up the nape to grip the scalp. Our future begins to look very, very much longer than our past.
And the Eye searches on...
