There was nothing leading Henry Parker’s way down the vacant and bumpy pathway through the park except for the moonlight’s illuminating beams peeking through the thick gray clouds surrounding it. He was drawn here by the incessant glimpses of a young girl. She could have only been about six or seven years of age. Why was a young girl roaming around in the dark by herself? Henry wondered. But then again, why was he?
He couldn’t explain it, but there was this nagging, this constant tugging at his soul to find the child and help her. And in any moment of doubt or reconsideration, she would appear again, behind the silhouette of a tree or the playground’s slide, and the luring feeling would resume again.
And so he advanced.
The trees that clung to his path were dancers, pushed and pulled by the harsh, chilling wind of autumn. The only noise Henry could hear was the crunch of crisp, dead leaves beneath his feet. He struggled to decide if it was comforting to hear his own footsteps, or strange that he couldn’t hear those of the young girl’s. Upon noticing this, he saw her again, making a right turn in the distance. Her movements were swift; her ragged and frayed white dress gently blowing behind her. Even as she turned, Henry couldn’t get a solid sight of her face, with her wavy and unkempt hair shielding it from him. He made the turn.
Maybe I should stop, he thought. She must have known he was following her by now. If she wanted help, Henry believed, she would have asked.
Then, almost as if on cue, he saw her again. Except this time, he was closer to her, only about a few yards away. She startled him a bit, appearing in front of him so abruptly. Henry stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. She was facing him, but her head was tilted down with her messy hair still covering her eyes. They stood there, silent for a few moments, and just as Henry was about to speak, the girl’s head twitched up.
He had never seen the girl before, he was sure, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had seen those eyes before. Round and wide, alert and striking, the darkest and boldest shade of green. They were Lauren’s.
But Lauren was gone, he reminded himself. She had disappeared several years back, and it was eventually decided that she was dead, although there was no solid proof. Henry himself came to accept it mournfully as well. She wouldn’t have left him so suddenly and without explanation, he used to tell himself. Therefore, she had to have died somehow.
But those are her eyes, he assured himself. He was absolutely certain.
“Who-“ he began to ask, but she immediately turned and continued on her way. Unable to resist, throbbing with curiosity, he followed her. As he stepped in her direction, he noticed a small cabin at the end of the path. He had already lost track of the girl, but he presumed he would find her in the cabin. The lights inside were off, but as he got closer, he could see the door was cracked open the slightest bit. He ignored a turning sensation in the pit of his stomach, and he entered.
The door cried as it opened, as though it was trying to warn Henry to get out, to get away from this creature that he was so hastily pursuing. But nothing could trump his persistence, not even fear.
“Hello?” he called out in hopes to find the girl. The darkness from outside carried on into the house. Then, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, and a candle was lit immediately after. Another gliding movement, another lit candle. As the nameless shadow swept across the sides of the square room, candles were lit right behind him. In a matter of seconds, Henry was standing in the center of a dim room, alone. Or so he thought, until he looked down to his feet.
There lay an all too familiar body. A woman was sprawled out on the wooden floor, her limbs awkwardly positioned away from her center. A pool of dark and fresh blood spilt next to her head. His eyes followed the trail of blood to find the source. Up the cheek, over the nose, and there it was.
Her eyes had been delicately and precisely carved out of their sockets, leaving black pits filled with blood as dark as night.
Henry was brought to his knees and gently put his hand on the maimed woman’s arm. A sob escaped his mouth along with the muffled word, “Lauren.”
His crying was so boisterous as to make him completely oblivious to the young girl’s presence behind him. Then she reached out to his hunching shoulder and rested it there. Henry gasped and flipped around, naturally putting his arm out to protect Lauren despite its uselessness. The first thing he saw upon turning around was the set of eyes. He hadn’t been wrong; he most certainly had seen them before. They were the only beautiful thing about the demonic young girl – the eyes belonged to Lauren. Henry couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, paralyzed by the confusion storming in his mind. How had the young girl taken Lauren’s eyes and placed them in her own body?
Shuffling backwards, his hands shakily guiding him from behind, Henry scrambled away. The girl did not walk, but materialized forward. One moment she was feet away from him, and in the blink of an eye she was right in front of him, staring deadpan into his face.
“What are you?” he wailed.
The answer never came. She took one more step toward him and took his head in her hands. They felt like cold mist against his ears. He felt himself becoming more and more distant, more and more lost. Soon she would have his eyes too.