Scared Sightless

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Cherry never meant to see it, but now that she has she sees it every night. Then during the day. Then everywhere and everyday. Too scared to see, but too fearful to close her eyes Cherry must figure out what it means to have yours eyes wide open. Even if Ollie has to pry them open with his bare hands.

Submitted: March 18, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 18, 2016



First Sighting: Distortion

Everyone assumed that Ollie was messed up. Someone pulled right into his brain and took whatever they could reach, which happened to be his fear. He was fearless. Sought out the scary for thrills because was empty. Depressed. Insane. Psychopath. 

But the thing was that people sought him out when they were scared. 

And guess what, hey audience, he gets scared too. Cue gasp. Revelatory, yes. 

But when he stares hard at red eyes he has to act like he's the hero. 

When in reality he's so, so, scared.

The hand that was previously shaking the door handle slowly moves away and lifts


When he blinks its gone.

When he sighs, its shaky.

Because it was long, with a face---

He's so, so, scared, but Cherry is crying. He's just proved its not jut in her head. No second head of insanity. He has to be brave. 

The footprints lead to the woods.

Photo Album: Blurred

(Lines of white sheets covering five bodies)

  Richard Moore, twenty-four years of age, accused of kidnapping and murdering---

  Investigation unresolved---

  (Scared boy staring into the camera)

  Missing child found---previously blind---miracle---

  (carved markings littering a pale chest)

  Satanic---sheriff claims---linked to Demon Hoarder---

  (burnt down gymnasium)

  Ollie Martin, ten year old adopted son of Sheriff Martin, accused of burning down gymnasium by---no substantial evidence---claims of disturbed behavior---no comment made by---

Developing: Dark Room

"Fuck, you'd think I could like this cancer stick with all the practice I've had, but," A shrug is used in place of any other response. Ollie isn't really paying attention though. He made a misstep the night before. He knows what he's dealing with, and, going by the carcass of the bunny he found when he got home, so does their not-so-little friend.

His hands are shaking, dancing a rhythm familiar to him only after nightmares,  but he has them shoved into his hoodie. Fear is a healthy thing, but Cherry needs a rouse of confidence. She's a mess of reality, a melted core vulnerable to the world. 

  "It'd be so ironic greaser girl, if I saved you from this, but you end dying from lung cancer, don'cha think?"

"Fuck you, I'm immortal"

A smile. 

He doesn't know if he can save her. Killing is easy, but saving is something else entirely. 

"I guess so,"

Lying is easy too. 

Not to himself, he has a policy, you see. But to her face, one he hates so much, one that used to stalk him in the halls and spit in his face, yeah, its so damn easy. It's not like he cares if she dies. She's just practice. 

He's no hero, he's just a hunter. And he's training. It's only training.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I swear,"

It doesn't matter if she dies.

Scouting: Angles

"Let me guess, you killed the sheriff, but not the deputy?" 

Ollie thinks of Deputy Simpsons, and snorts. Sunshine may be a psychic, but she's also stupid. It's well known that Ollie doesn't get along with the deputy, especially after Simpson led the pitch forked citizens. Sure, it took balls to accuse the sheriffs son, but no brains. Which explains Simpsons to the edges. So, Ollie doubts it was a prediction, but, the thing is, it's always hard to tell. She might be stupid, or he might. That's what's so annoying about the game. 

"Cherry is pissing her pants, and I bet you know why,"

"What's your question?"

"Freak, I question, why didn't I get the heads up that the fashion disaster is in town?"

"Because family matters, bunny"

A chill runs up his spine at the sudden flashback of a gentle, smiling face and a single lie that saved---

"I hope you don't hold it against me. I do so value our friendship,"
Sunshine just smiles. 

With Sunshine as a bust, and Cherry an unreliable source, Ollie is irritated. He knows what he's dealing with sure, but the question is who. Who decided to try out the good'ol wolf skin. Obviously, its someone related to Sunshine, but related is always used loosely with her. Sisters his ass.

Looks like the draw of the day is old fashioned research. Who knows a person who knows a person who pissed off who. 

Second Sighting: Blur

His car swerves to the left from his reflexive attempt to get away from the gray blur. The car honks sound like echoes in the place of replaying images. Peripheral vision of red eyes and a deafening sound of the door handle jingling. Over and over and over again. 

He can't help his eyes from frantically searching his surroundings, but there's only cars driving around him. 

He eyes burn and he just wants to scream. 

He just lets go of the breaks and drives on, not bothering to check the door.

He knows he will just find scratches. 

Scouting: Skewed Angle

"Where do you think you're going young man?" the Martin asks, needlessly, Ollie thinks. 

Ollie would usually mouth off, but that usually leads to Martin's suspicion of drugs. No drugs, but Ollie is trying to smuggle two of Martin's guns out of the house. Play house, fine.

"To make friends,"

"But you don't have friends," Martin flinches as soon as the words leaves his mouth. Ollie doesn't. Its true, so whatever.

"Yeah, hence, make friends. I'm taking the initiative,"

"Right, and where do you plan to find these friends?"

"The library. Free WiFi down there, since, you know, we don't have any here,"

Guilt and confusion makes Martin hesitate, so Ollie takes his chance. They both know why they don't have internet. Ollie was a stupid twelve year old who never erased his search history. Ollie clenches his fist, stupid therapist. Wholesome lifestyle free of temptation, what a fart.

Third Sighting: Close-up

"Here, aim for the neck,"

"Okay," She may be agreeing, but her shaking hands say otherwise. She'll miss, great. So much for back up. 

He sighs and makes his way down the stairs, her footsteps stopping midway, as instructed. It's too bad that he couldn't aim from her bedroom window, but that would make aiming for the neck harder. Crack shot, or not, he just wants it to be over with. So he aims for the glass doors leading to her yard and

The sound of breaking glass and the feel of warm liquid on his neck seem to happen simultaneously. 

She was just practice. Fuck, this is why he needs practice.

He turns around and shoots. The bullet goes through the neck. 

Practice gives him a crack shot. 

Lack of practice forces him to use bait.

Both bodies tumble down the stairs.

When he pulls back the wolf skin, he hates the world. It's the deputy. Sunshine had never so deliberately lied to him, not the deputy, fuck. Of course he can't trust her. Practice, he needs more practice. He thought it was Cherry's aunt, one pissed off relative who recently lost all of her fortune. Unlike Cherry's family. Instead, it was a pissed of ex.

What a cliche. 

He sighs again, and sets to setting up the stage. A perfect picture telling the story of a vengeful ex with a knife. An terrified victim with a gun. Give the minimum, and the citizens will make up the rest. Denial is a strong color to paint with. 

He needs more practice.

He doesn't want killing to be easy.

After image

Another bunny carcass shows up at his doorstep. 



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