Hey folks, I don’t have long for this world, but I’ve got to get this off my chest.
About three years ago, two years from when I planned to retire, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.
The client was three blocks from my home, but I’d never noticed the unusual Victorian style, two-story home. That is, I’d never noticed it until that assignment.
The wrought-iron gate was poorly maintained. Where paint had chipped, rust had taken root.
If I really wanted to, I could have easily squeezed through the dilapidated fence. Thinking better of it, I called the customer.
“Hey there, couldja come open th’ gate?”
I scolded myself for slurring. It wasn’t something I prided myself on.
The line remained silent, save for a single, brief wheeze. The front gate creaked open slightly.
The lock had crumbled.
With a gulp, I asked “can I come in?”
After a long moment of silence, a soft sob reached my other ear.
Turning to inspect the source of the cry, what could have once been a graveyard sprawled for half an acre.
How hadn’t I noticed that sooner? Was it always there?
Not a fan of how the winds were blowing, I got to work. Thankfully, the customer stayed inside and I could stay outside. Worst case scenario, my shovel could provide some self defense.
The wellhead was the midpoint between the graveyard, house, and gate. Back to the gate, I kept the two eerie structures in sight.
All signs suggested a leak, so I got to digging. Three shovels in, a louder, yet still quiet sob entered my ears.
My eyes immediately shot to the graveyard. The sob hadn’t originated there. The house? No. Behind me…?
I froze for a moment, expecting to see some witch to have her gnarled, wart covered hands, reaching for my throat. Holding my breath, I hazarded a glance.
Nothing.
I turned around fully, scanning the area. I’d definitely heard something, right? That was the second time…
Narrowing my eyes, I glared at the house. Scooping out four, then five more loads, I maintained my gaze.
That unholy sound radiated from either side, the source just beyond sight.
I jumped 180 degrees, ready to scold the mischievous kids who were toying with me. Finger raised, shovel leaning over my shoulder, my mouth hung loose.
Nothing. There was zilch, nada.
Clouds passed over the sun, casting a blanket of shade over the property. I shivered slightly, regretting not wearing something warmer.
I decided standing around, ready to shit myself, wasn’t going to get me the fuck outta there any quicker, so I got back to digging.
Every handful of shovels, the sobs would echo from seemingly random directions. Each sob sent a shiver down my spine and sent me to new depths of dread.
“What in the hell…?” I trailed off, a shiny, round object sparkling as the clouds passed.
Flashing my light over the object, I gagged. Through the dirt, I could make out what it was.
The eye loosely hung from its socket, dangling by a nerve.
My digging had inadvertently uncovered it.
I would have lost my shit, had the iris not darted up at me, pupil dilating.
“Hiii…” the muffled voice, the same as the sobs, groaned. The wall the eye hung from began to shake, as if something was moving behind it.
I noped the fuck out of there. Speeding home, I drowned myself in the liquor around the house, then promptly blacked out.
Every now and then, I see it in the corner of my eye. That loose, dangling eye, watching.