The tale of the Eyelid Man is still young. Based on the unfortunately minimal amount of information I can find on what I saw, my experiences with it have been one of a kind. I am almost certain that the majority of you are in no harm what so ever from him. I am not writing this to tell you how you or your loved ones may be in danger, but rather to officially document my story. Should you encounter the thing, very little can be done to save you from my fate. You may stop reading this any time you like, but the only thing you need to know is this: The Eyelid Man is real. I know he is. He is with me right now.
It was several months back when I first started seeing the thing. At first, it was nothing I could pinpoint. I began having the unmistakable feeling that I was being watched just about everywhere that I went. This wouldn’t have been so much of an issue if the feeling had eventually subsided; it never did. No matter where I was or what I was doing, even if I was sure that I was alone, I felt the pressure of eyes staring at me. I could never see who it was or gauge where it was coming from, but I knew that feeling. Privacy was quickly becoming a luxury I was no longer able to afford.
The stress began to settle in soon after. I started losing a little more sleep each night. The feelings progressed. I began noticing random flashes of a single image in my mind. These images all happened at odd, inconsistent intervals throughout my day. Every now and then out of the corner of my eye or occasionally after blinking, my brain registered a single image for a split second though nothing was ever there. The weird thing about it was that it was always the same image: two wide, unyielding eyes staring at me. Now, the feeling of being watched was consistently an issue, so I wanted to blame the image on the stress or lack of sleep, but the surprise of seeing those eyes staring back at me was not something I could brush off so easily. They were wide; very wide. They appeared to be slightly bloodshot and very very still.
The pupils were extremely dilated and they were always directly centered on mine. There were no other facial features in the image; just eyes. The most unsettling thing about them was that they were perfectly circular. They almost didn’t look human. They appeared human, but no one’s eyes are that geometrically flawless. After several days of seeing this single image occur in my mind more and more often, that is when I could ignore it no more. I began scheduling appointments with all sorts of doctors and specialists. I even tried therapy for the first time. Nothing worked.
My fear of the image quickly turned into annoyance and frustration. My girlfriend, Alice, with whom I had been living with at the time, was very supportive and did her best to be there for me any time I had an episode, but what she did was of little help as well. After I had wasted much of my time and most of my money with doctors, I began to see the image less frequently. It became easier to brush off the whole ordeal as a weird reoccurring hallucination. For a while, I was able to enjoy entire nights of sleep again.
After I began no longer seeing the eyes in my mind, I started seeing them elsewhere. I would still have the constant feeling of being watched, but occasionally I would look a certain direction in a crowded area and see a person staring at me. Whether it was at the grocery store, the park, or even in busy restaurants, I would catch someone staring back at me for inappropriately long periods of time. They would often be on the other end of a large room from me; although, their being so far away didn’t make me feel any better about the situation. What was especially unsettling was that It wasn’t ever the same person. It was always a different person each time.
The first time it was a woman at Wal-Mart. She stood among others walking around her like nothing was wrong. She just stood there, staring back at me. The next time it was a teenage boy at the mall. He was with a group of other boys, but none of them seemed to notice the odd behavior. The next was an old man staring outside his window into my house one night. He didn’t move for hours, even after I had left and come back to check to see if he was still there, standing and staring out of his bedroom window. I wanted to go over to these people and ask what their problem was, but I couldn’t. You see, the one thing they all had in common was their eyes. Each and every one of them had the exact same eyes that I had just gotten over seeing in my mind: bloodshot, glaring, void of emotion, very wide, and perfectly round. All the fears and anxiety came rushing back for every single time I saw them on someone’s face.
I quit my job. I wasn’t able to focus on anything except keeping people away. I saw so scared that, soon after, I stopped leaving the house altogether. My girlfriend was able to take care of us both for a while. I felt bad about putting so much pressure on her, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just needed time to get away from people. I thought it would work, but like everything else I tried, it didn’t. I occasionally looked out of a window to see that same stare plastered on some passing neighbor just outside my house. They just stood there for hours staring into my home. Most of their faces were usually expressionless; however, occasionally one would wear a devious grin that stretched across their entire face.
I admit to being one who scares easily, but every one of those staring people terrified me more than anything I had ever known. I wanted to look away and shut the whole thing out as my own imagination, but after three weeks of seeing these sick, malice eyes, I knew I needed to face it. I needed to know what it wanted, but I was always afraid of approaching it. Seeing those eyes went from being a once-a-day occurrence to being once every single time I looked out of my window. It started with the old man across the street staring out of his window. It then took shape of drivers stopping just outside of my house to stare at me from inside their own cars. Within the week, it turned into neighbors standing on the sidewalk outside of my house. It wasn’t long after that did they start standing on my lawn. I tried to get my girlfriend to see them with me, but like every other person, she never saw anyone there. I would see them moving closer and closer to the house with every time I looked back. I screamed at them. I threatened the police on them. When I did finally call the cops, they too saw nothing. I didn’t want myself committed, so I tried to convince myself that they were just illusions for the sake of appearances, but I knew better than that.
I chose not to look out the window for a while. I figured, ‘If I stop giving them attention, maybe they’ll go away.’ It had been five weeks and I could tell my girlfriend was growing more and more upset that I was not ‘feeling better’. We barely spoke anymore. We shared a bed, but I never slept. She was so stressed out about having to work more to take care of me that I could tell she was on the edge of packing everything up and leaving. I couldn’t blame her, but the last thing I wanted was to be alone. After a week of avoiding windows, I took a peek out of one and found no one around.
I checked all around the window expecting someone to be very close by, but there was no one in sight. I looked through all the other windows of the house. Not one of them showed someone staring at me. I even took a couple of steps outside my front door and still saw no one there. I laughed. I laughed completely without irony for the first time in weeks. It was all over. I could continue my life.
I don’t know what I was thinking. Whatever insurance was going through my mind at the time completely overshadowed the truth. I had not seen those eyes on anyone for several days. I was quick to go back out, look for a job, visit friends and family, and try to do what I could for Alice to thank her for all of her help, despite how cumbersome our relationship had grown. Everything was going so well. On this one night, I had just come home late from my parents’ house for dinner and coffee. My girlfriend was already asleep, so I prepared myself for bed and curled up next to her. I turned on the television for light and some slight sound before shutting my eyes. I felt her arm reach over in her sleep and lay over my shoulder. I felt her turn her body toward mine. I loved her so much. I was so looking forward to repairing and rebuilding our relationship. I smiled and thought she may have been awake. I looked at her and threw myself out of the bed and onto the floor.
She was staring at me with those same wide, reddened, circular eyes. She smiled, not her normal smile, but an open, toothy smile; one that would be unnatural for anyone. I got up off the floor and wanted to run, but I couldn’t look away. Those eyes followed me around the room. As I reached for the door, she sat up like a machine. I screamed. I threw the door open, ran for my keys, sprinted to my car, and I drove as quickly as I could. I had no destination, nor did I care that I left all of my stuff behind. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was going to do, but I knew that I would never go back there. Those eyes. Those damn eyes. They found a way into my home and onto the woman that I loved. I convinced myself that I would never go back; that I wouldn’t be able to look at that face another second of my life. That image still remains burned into my memory like a warped, rotting tattoo. I drove until I could no longer stay awake. I pulled over at an overnight rest stop and slept in my car through the night.
For about five days I lived off the services of some nearby rest stop off the interstate. Afterward, I mustered up the courage and I went back. I couldn’t hide from my life anymore. I had to face the reality of the situation head-on and my girlfriend needed a reason for why I left. Looking back at her face again was one of the hardest things that I have ever done. As hard as it was for me was how relieving it was to see that her face had returned to normal. I gave her the biggest hug and the most sincere apology I have ever given anyone before. I was so glad that I came back. I didn’t want to leave her behind for good. I explained what I saw to her. I knew she wouldn’t understand nor did I expect her to, but she comforted me anyway.
I just needed her by my side through it all. She agreed and made me promise that I would never do anything as crazy and irrational because of it. I promised halfheartedly. I didn’t sleep in the same bed as her for many nights after I returned. I stayed in the guest room for those nights and made very certain that I locked the doors and the windows before going to bed. Everything was improving, but I knew better than to let that fool me again. In the coming days, I would force myself outside to crowded places and to interact with other people. I was very skeptical of how normal everything had become again. In fact, seeing those eyes on my girlfriend was the very last time I had seen those eyes on anyone.
Soon enough though, I began seeing them again. Not on anyone else, mind you, but on me; inside me. I would see them every single time I closed my eyes. Those eyes stared back at me from inside my own eyelids now. Those eyes were so red with blood pumping veins. Those piercing pupils digging into my mind. They were so perfectly round as if the organs themselves had been ripped out of someone’s head. I saw them constantly now anytime I ever closed my eyes. Anytime I blinked, they were there. Anytime I tried to sleep, they were there. Anytime my eyelids could no longer fight against their own will to rest, they were there.
You know that your eyes never turn off? They just get covered by the darkness of your eyelids. The eyes I was seeing penetrated that darkness. I would fall asleep with those eyes staring back at me. For the longest time, those eyes got closer and closer to me until they finally caught me. They burrowed into my body and invaded the one place I knew I could always be safe. I would go days without sleeping, to the point where I would physically beat myself into unconsciousness just to get some rest without having to look at those eyes. I always did though. I was always looking at them. They followed my own eyes from behind my closed eyelids.
Even as I slept, they invaded my mind. They turned my dreams into nightmares and my nightmares into reality. I knew that I could no longer live this way. One night, as my girlfriend worked late, I scrawled down a short apology on a piece of paper and locked myself in the bathroom with a straight razor. I stood over the sink and held that razor against my wrist for what seemed like hours without motion. I began to sob as I came to the realization that I couldn’t bring myself to end my life. I had always been a coward and I knew it. I hated crying that much more, because it forced me to close my eyes. I was sick of them. The fear I had for them was vastly outweighed by the hatred I had for those eyes for following me around for so long and ruining my life. They invaded my body. They infiltrated my mind. They live, pulsating and searing their malicious stare, behind my eyelids. That’s when the idea happened.
I raised the razor to my face. I clenched my teeth as the blade glided slowly and carefully through the top of my left eyelid. I had to give them no place to live. I could no longer stand their burning, hellish stare. I was determined to get rid of them one way or another. I had to constantly wipe blood away from the spot, along with keeping my hand smooth and steady. I removed my top left eyelid and dropped it into the puddle of blood accumulating in the sink.
I began immediately on the bottom left, removing it from my face in the same slow, methodical fashion. Then came the next eye. I was much quicker with removing the infected skin on the other side after a little practice. I felt the blade cut slightly into my eyeball, but I cared very little at that point. I was able to cut away most of the top right eyelid, but ended up just yanking the rest off to save time. Finally came off the bottom right eyelid who soon joined the rest of the blood and tissue collected in the sink.
It hurt so much, but the payoff was more than worth it. I would never have to look at those eyes ever again and could finally move on with my life. I washed away the blood from my face and the sink, as well as threw out the cursed eyelids. As I finished drying my face, I looked up in the mirror and couldn’t believe what I saw. Those eyes. Those same eyes. My new eyes were intensely bloodshot. The pupils were so wide they nearly swallowed all the white in an inescapable darkness. Their shape was so perfectly round; symmetrically circular in every way. I stared at myself in the mirror because that was all that I could do. I could only stare back at the same creature I had been hiding from for all this time. The eyes had finally caught up with me. Everyone now calls me ‘The Eyelid Man.’
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