The year was 2005.
Entry posted by λngelღмander
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5/5/2005. I was eight years old, almost nine. It was a cool winter's day in south florida, at a village methodist. A black boy's teeth chattered, lightly but audibly, a few feet away. He was clad in a green striped windbreaker. Across the large property, a slide could be seen. In front of the slide was the sandpit, where I and friends on occasion could be found digging up the hardened sandstone and bringing it out of the ground carefully to slide down this slide. There were occasions we would manage to gain access to the refridgerator, so we would put compacted sand balls in the freezer to harden, and throw them at each other when hard. A long fence surrounded the perimeter, a fence I had somewhat infrequently climbed to recover assorted objects that had flown over them in recent years. To the right was a basketball court and a seesaw that I in my early childhood learned to practice trick shots on. A boy stood in the middle of the property, his short but floppy hair flapping in the cool wind, his skin unaffected by the flowing cool air. Upon closer inspection, the boy could be seen to have no eyes, but when he gazed upon you, you felt as if you were being watched from behind, not by him but by the thing he was staring at past you that was watching you. One then felt an unsettling feeling when looking behind oneself to appease the feeling, because then the feeling was amplified from behind, as if leaving the strange being behind you unwatched was dangerous. So one would focus upon it, the mere act of lifting the eyes off it difficult but not through a macabre fascination but an unintelligible self preservation. One would approach the figure, it's cool skin flapping in the cool breeze, and ask it why it was here. It would invariably respond the same way every time.
"I took a walk because the snow is beautiful in the moonlight." One may try to challenge any of the falsehoods in that statement, for example the fact that there was no snow, and that it was not nighttime, and that standing still could not be constituted as walking, but any challenge toward the being was met with a steely answer. This specific human challenged the being's statement that it was night. The being replied,
"It is night." And it became night. The next steps were always the same.
"There is no snow."
"There is snow." And there was snow.
"You're not walking." To this, the being would never reply. Instead, the observer would, over the course of the next few hours, come to realize that they had been talking to themselves, and that they were the being. And they had no eyes. Their skin flapped in the wind. A person observing from the outside would have an intense need to look away, and when they looked back there would only be one being, but this would not be alarming at all because it seems so right, for there to only be one, even when two were present before. And a human approached you, and you looked past him, through him. The human looked behind himself, and then back at you, with the same undeterred stare of prey to the predator they don't know has seen them and intend to avoid contact with. And the human would ask,
"What are you doing?" To which you would respond
"I took a walk because the snow is beautiful in the moonlight."
- λngelღмander
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