Chilling Tales for Dark Nights.
Emerald Eyes.
Hi, my name is Evan.
Seven years ago, during my summer vacation, my parents were killed by a kid who broke
into our house.
I had just come in from swimming in the lake.
It was getting late and the sun was setting.
I was changing into dry clothes when I heard a loud noise from the living room.
My mother and father were always fighting, so I passed it off as that, but being curious,
I opened my door an inch and peeked down the hall to see what I could see.
There was a dark stain on the carpet in the living room.
"Maybe Mommy spilled some of her happiness," I thought.
This was the first thing that came to mind when I saw that stain, and in later years
I came to learn that "happiness" was my mother's term for wine.
With this thought came the realization that my father must have been mad about it and
thrown something.
I never liked it when he did things like that, and especially when the things he threw hit
her.
I opened my door more and called out.
"Mommy?"
No response.
I walked down the hall and into the living room to see a boy standing over the corpse
of my father, a bloody knife sticking out of his back.
I could hear my mother crying in the corner.
She kept saying her son was a good boy and would never hurt her.
This made me confused.
How could my mother mistake me for this other boy?
Sure, he looked to be the same age as me, around 10 or 11, but my mom knew me, didn't
she?
The boy's face was covered in shadow, and it seemed that he hadn't noticed me yet.
He took the knife out of my father's back, and it made the most horrible noise, a squishy,
wet noise that sent chills down my spine.
The boy turned to my mother and ran at her, bringing the knife down on her, stabbing again
and again and again.
Then he turned to me, and I saw his glimmering eyes in the small amount of light coming through
the window.
They were green, a bright emerald green.
Then he ran out the door and into the hazy twilight.
His eyes always stayed in my memory, burned into my retinas.
I wanted nothing more than to find this boy and tear out those eyes that had haunted me
for so long.
I wanted them destroyed completely, so that I wouldn't have to see them anymore.
I lived my life in mental institutions, dealing with the trauma of seeing my parents killed.
I told the doctors about my plan to find the boy and take his eyes, his terrible emerald
eyes.
They said it was out of line.
Me!
Out of line!
Pssssh.
I thought they were insane; they didn't deserve to be doctors.
Anyway, I moved from institution to institution, unhappy with all the doctors I came across.
That was until I met Dr. Hassling.
She understood, she knew exactly what to say.
She said anyone would have wanted to have revenge after going through what I went through.
Of course, I knew I was right all along.
But Dr. Hassling did say odd things at times.
For example, one day she asked me what I would do differently if I could undo the day my
parents were brutally slaughtered.
I think she expected me to say I would have saved my parents, or maybe that I would have
locked the door when I came in.
If anything, a boy who saw his parents murdered should want to go back and change things,
so that's what I told her.
She just nodded.
She knew I was right.
A year after being with Dr. Hassling, she said I should go out and find this boy, in
order to get revenge.
It was the happiest day of my life.
I packed the few possessions I had during my stay at the institution and left.
I spent the night at a nearby hotel and planned out how I was going to find the boy.
I had a shower and was about to go to bed when I noticed something moving out of the
corner of my eye.
Turning toward the movement, I came face to face with a young man -- a young man with
piercing emerald eyes.
I would have known those eyes anywhere, those eyes that stayed with me my entire life.
This was the same boy, I knew it.
He was much older now, what with the passing of the years and all, but I would have recognized
him anywhere.
But how did he know I was here?
He must have been following me!
My mind raced until I thought of the knife sitting on the table that I had used while
eating dinner.
I picked it up slowly and walked toward the green-eyed man.
The man started walking toward me.
He had something in his hand, but I couldn't see it in the shadows.
We walked toward each other until we were less than a foot apart, then I quickly raised
the knife and plunged it into his eye.
He never saw it coming!
I cackled and screamed as I wedged his left eye out, and then I moved onto the other one.
The moon must have gone behind the clouds then, because all the light seemed to disappear,
but I didn't need light, I knew what I was doing.
I stabbed blindly and felt the knife sink into flesh, and I felt incredible.
Finally I was avenging my parents; finally, I was ridding myself of those emerald green
eyes, and would never have to look at them again.
I made the man pay for what he did to my parents.
In a blind rage, I stabbed again and again, tearing the green-eyed monster to ribbons.
I stabbed senselessly, over and over, until my arms were weak and I could barely breathe.
Once I had both of his eyes out, I collapsed to the floor, satisfied the deed was done.
The next day, the hotel's room service came into Evan's room to find a grisly scene.
The police were called and arrived in less than an hour to investigate.
In the room, police found a corpse on the floor, knife in one hand, with both eyes missing
and dozens of stab wounds on the body.
Leaning against a nearby bedpost directly in front of the body, there was a mirror.
The man's other hand was clenched tightly into a fist.
In this hand, police found two emerald-green eyes.
It was obvious from the angle of the stab wounds that the man had done this to himself.
But despite the pain the man must have gone through, his face was not contorted into a
grimace or a scowl, but into a grin.
He was actually smiling.