Iris

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 16, 2016

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Submitted: May 16, 2016

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IRIS

 

The lights ahead turned yellow, and then red. He applied the brakes and stopped just short of the crosswalk. He knew better than to take this route. He was sitting at the longest red light in town. And as Murphy’s Law would have it, the busier you are, the longer you’ll have to wait. He began to look around as a car pulled up beside him. 

The driver was a young woman. She had the color of hair you’d call orange. It flowed in ringlets down her back, and tapered into a fluffy swath of bangs in front. She sat motionless, starring ahead, waiting for the same green light as he. 

Slowly, she turned her head until she was looking into his face. Being caught off guard, he coughed and moved awkwardly in his seat, as if to find a more comfortable position, and looked at the lights. They were still red. Tentatively, he turned towards her again. She was still holding his gaze. This time, he was unable to look away.

He starred at her neck, which was smooth and pink, and followed its lines until it reached a soft rounded chin, then to her mouth. She was smiling at him. It kept his attention no matter what he thought or tried, and in spite of himself, his stare became fixed. He began to feel like a fish that was eyeing up a worm hiding a hook. And like the fish, he bit. 

He glanced upwards until he was looking directly into her eyes. They were pale blue - almost grey - and were bright and clear. So clear, in fact, he could see his own reflection in them, starting small but becoming larger, and moving towards him. He felt his body freeze in place. He was unable to budge or divert his glance, as his image floated across the distance between the two of them. 

He became aware of the shallow, rapid action of his breathing - each gasp a little harder than the last. And every time he inhaled, her eyes - with him in them - came closer and closer. He tried to reckon with his ferrel instincts while they responded to this ‘living dream’, and when he thought that her eyes could get no closer, they touched his own. Seeing his face on the surface of those pale orbs, he looked into his own eyes, which now reflected how he appeared to her. 

Suddenly, he could distinguish nothing, as if flying through a cloud. A swath of haze wrapped about him like a blanket. He struggled to see beyond this opaque blindfold, and reeled from the disorientation of his senses. The only clear thought in his head wondered if he was having a stroke. He felt himself move through the dense fog as it started to thin. That’s when it began to rain. It was cold and uncomfortable on his face. As the fog disappeared he saw that he was standing on a tree lined, country road. There were no sounds to be heard. No traffic; no birds; no other people. He struggled, in vain, to come up with any explanation as to where he was, or how he got there. And where was she - the woman with the grey eyes? 

He wondered if he could move. He took a step, and to his relief, he was able to walk. But where does one walk when one seems to be in a dream? ‘Ahead’, he thought. ‘One walks ahead.’ He started down the road in the direction he was facing - the eerie veneer of darkness masking the noon day sky. Trees and shrubs were being pelted by rain, and heaved about by  wind. Silently. As sound is absent in space, so to was it here. He wiped the rain from his face and hastened onward.

There wasn’t a building in sight. No telephone polls or mailboxes. Nothing but an endless tract of land without description. Instead, it presented itself as a water color composition in shades of grey. The land that rose towards the horizon, disappeared before it got there, and where he walked, the land walked with him, like a shadow, painfully silent. 

“I need to hear something, or I’ll go mad!” he said out loud. The sound of his words fell from his mouth like stones off a cliff, landing on the road beneath his feet. Sound was not welcome here. He knew it. It forced him into silence. Resigned, he carried on. 

No sooner had he continued, when a sound - not of his making - ripped through the falling rain. It was a scream. A terrible, haunting scream. One of fear and pain. It came from somewhere up the road. Then a second scream. Someone was in trouble. He began to trot in the direction he hoped was right. His breathing became laboured, and he felt a bit light headed. A third scream. Then a fourth. He rounded a corner that was covered in a clump of trees. That’s when he heard the fifth scream, a few yards away. He stopped dead in his tracks and peered from behind the trees. 

There was an opening on the land and he could see two figures struggling. He strained his eyes and tried to calm his heart. He began to inch closer while the combatants continued to spar without giving him notice. He attempted to focus, but colors and shapes morphed without definition. He took a deep breath and tried to force his eyes to comply.

He saw two women as they wrestled violently. Their momentum drove them closer to where he hid. One of them was clearly dominating the other. The aggressor forced the weaker of the two, backwards. When they were just a few feet away, he jumped out from his spot. The dominant fighter froze and looked his way. A sinister smile came across her face as she lifted her hand to show that she was brandishing a long, silver knife. As he focused on the  blade, her chilling grin grew ever wider. 

She raised the knife above her victim and taunted him. Dared him. With her other hand, she firmly grasped the woman’s hair without taking her eyes away from his. Nor did he look away. Suddenly, the other woman broke from her captive’s grip, and spun around. It was her. 

All at once, he could see his reflection in her eyes again. Large at first, then diminishing as she moved away. She receded ever further, back…back…back to her car that was sitting at the red light. He could see her whole face again, but this time, instead of a smile, he saw agony. Her mouth expressed a desperate fear, a resignation of sorts. As her face began to show the acceptance of its fate, a shadow emerged from behind her, sitting in the passenger seat. It started as an outline of a head, then shoulders, and finally a hand. She pushed her face into the light and to his horror, he saw the woman from the road. Then he saw the long blade in her hand.

She held the steely blade menacingly over the head of the woman with the grey eyes, much like she did on the road. She glared with a focus that was as sharp as her knife, and caused him to loose his breath. He panicked as he chocked and sputtered, trying desperately to find his share of oxygen, all the while unable to avert her gaze. While she continued to stare into his eyes, she took her other hand and grabbed the grey eyed woman by her hair and pulled her head back exposing her soft, pink neck. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she quickly ran the knife across her throat, sending a blood red spray throughout the car. Then she twisted her head so that it was facing him, turning ever paler as her life source drained from her body, pooling on the floor of the car.

Her grey eyes remained open, vacantly cast in his direction. He sat there, numb, less from fear than resignation. He wondered who she was; where she had taken him. As he tried to come to terms with this living nightmare, it began again. Her lifeless eyes came toward him once more - ever closer - until he could sense them touching his own, and, like the last time, they melded together, bonded by forces both unseen and unnatural. He felt the world go dark.

The light turned green.

The car pulled away.

It began to rain.


© Copyright 2017 Norman K. All rights reserved.

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