Lovely Eye


Her mother had been a Seeker, although she did not know this, nor could she ever know, for after the following event took place all memory or thought of anything even vaguely related to such had disappeared from both their minds, and the girl’s father had supposedly died long ago (or so her mother claimed), although the circumstances surrounding his death were mysterious at best. The woman, the girl’s mother, who currently went by the name Ms Prynne but before was known as Rose Majesty, had found merely one Object, and one Object only. Object 5. After obtaining this Object, the first in what she’d hoped would be a very fruitful and astonishingly horrifying career, she fell into an infatuation (for sociopaths like herself can never truly “love”) with a young man named, or so he claimed, Charles Fee.

Charles Fee was a fellow Seeker, although more subtly deranged than many, which I think is what drew Rose to him. He had been a Seeker much longer than Rose, although he of course did not inform her of this, nor did he inform her of the hideous parasite that lived within him, courtesy of a particularly angry Seeker who also happened to be a witch.

They married, both under obviously fake names, and lived in an equally fake happiness for approximately a year, before Charles left forever to join a new, younger Seeker. Rachel moved on quickly; her infatuation had long since passed, and she had grown rather bored of his company as well.

A child, however, had been conceived before the two had split, and would soon be born. Rachel named her Delilah, and decided to experiment on her, for she had grown weary of such human things, wishing to Seek once again, and hoping this experiment would kill the baby, ridding her of an attachment to the human world. For whatever reason she could not leave the child, nor kill it, and so perfected a more insidious and roundabout way of doing so.

And thus, immediately after the child was born, she found the box in which she had carefully placed Object 5, the eye. It was still warm, even after so many years, and she looked at it with a sort of love Delilah would never see. Carefully, Rachel set it down on an old metal tray, then took the tongs she had gathered, snapping them twice, to rip out her daughter’s left eye.
Delilah stared up at her mother, smiling.

And then screaming.

Screaming.

Screaming.

Screaming.

Screaming.

Screaming.

Rachel covered the girl’s mouth, then, with one hand, the other maneuvering Object 5 into the empty eye socket. It was somewhat difficult as the blood had almost filled the cavity, but she dropped it in with a slight splash. To her displeasure, it attached itself quite nicely with the nerves automatically, and began to follow the other eye’s movements. Its color, a deep red akin to blood after one left it out for a few days, however, did not change to suit the other eye, a dull gray color that had been in Rachel’s family for centuries.

Delilah’s muffled cries had begun to subside as the baby realized it could feel no pain now (or ever, for that matter), and Rachel removed her hand. She questioned whether it would be worth the trouble to clean the blood off of the baby’s face, and, groaning, decided it would be, although she planned for Delilah to never enter any school or even a particularly bustling store, for that matter, without her mother close at hand.

It was exactly three months after this the memories left. None knew why, perhaps even Him could not even manage to figure it out, but there it was. Suddenly and irrevocably, neither mother nor child remembered anything, not that Delilah was even capable of doing such.

Rachel shifted her name almost unconsciously to Dora Prynne, along with Delilah’s to Eliza. Although her daughter would never have a birth certificate or social security number, nor could her mother seem to bring herself to make a real one, Prynne faked several, eventually moving to Iowa where she began work as a receptionist for a large firm called A.G. Industries.

Her daughter was at first diagnosed with congenital analgia, although she could feel temperature quite well, unless it felt uncomfortable in any way. She was able to “feel” the heat or the cold as it maybe, simply not the pain associated with it, or so she explained to the incredulous doctors. However, as her mother appeared to share the condition, no more was said, especially about their lack of the brain chemistry to back up the diagnosis.

The eye itself did very little for her other then keep away pain. On the very rare occasion, when the two chanced upon something relating to the Objects, Eliza would see it with a murky silver sheen surrounding it. That is all.
The girl grew. She grew into a young, awkward teenager with messy brown hair, loads of disgusting pimples, and a thin, weak build that looked like she’d just gotten out of an internment camp. When she turned fourteen she started to wonder why she was so indescribably different than the other girls with their boyfriends and their shiny electronics and their perfectly done hair.

She began to wonder why no matter how much she cleaned her hair, it stayed flecked with dirt.

She began to wonder why the others grew angry when she threw stones at cats or drowned mice for fun.

She began to wonder why no matter how much spray-on tan she drenched herself in nor how long she stayed in the sun her skin wouldn’t change from translucently pallid, nor would it even freckle in the sun.

And she especially began to wonder why everyday her eye tugged at her, tugged her to something unknown. It was just an eye, after all, red as it was, strange as it was, an eye.

And so it came to pass that on a dark day in early November when the rain came down in sheets she met a man, or what passed for a man. His name was Jack.

Categories: | Those Who Seek |

Last modified on 2011-04-08 17:34:34Average Rating: 1 / 5 (1 votes)Viewed 3322 times

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