The Brass Eye
A man watches it all through his keyhole. What he sees changes nothing.
I pull up in my wheelchair, hoping to see something—anything—through the keyhole in my flat door, sitting there waiting for something, anything to happen.
I feel like I’m waiting for Godot.
The last person I saw was Susie.
It was dinnertime last night.
So I feel quite alone.
There’s no harm in watching, when I’m the one behind closed doors.
There’s no harm in watching, when it happens in the corridor.
The pristine—elegant, some would say—corridor beyond my door.
I’ve seen it all in time, seen the ups and downs of life.
Sometimes it’s drunk students, barely making it into their flat.
Other times it’s night shifters returning home from work.
I’ve seen arguments and fistfights. Birthday surprises and romantic gestures delivered.
I’ve seen all of life—and death.
Young lovers stealing kisses and more.
Broken engagements and the sweetest serenades.
A strong scent of bleach and other chemicals reaches my nostrils.
I’ve been waiting a while now, and before I decide to throw in the towel, so to speak, and call it a night,
I hear an awful din—
a horrific scream, like someone had the fright of their life.
Watching through the keyhole—the small, cent-sized window—
I sit transfixed by the action.
Who needs television, streaming, or doom-scrolling,
when I’m watching through my keyhole?
All black masks and balaclavas,
sharp knives and bad intentions.
Her screams and bangs echo on my neighbours’ doors—
unoccupied, or out at work?
Watching through the keyhole, transfixed by the action.
That dulled brass eye with a view to the world beyond my door.
It seems my evening’s entertainment is about to begin.
I wonder what’s in store for me today—
what the local amateur players will be challenging themselves with tonight.
Straight-up murder, or something more decadent?
I watch her try to run.
I secretly hope she escapes.
It’s more fun when they try to escape.
Because watching through the keyhole,
I begin questioning why I’m just sitting there,
watching the catastrophe.
The poor, defenceless woman—
being taken so freely,
without question or fight, quarrel or reason.
Make her pay the price for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They grip her hair, hold her in place.
They slice at her flesh, and my stomach turns sick.
They slash her throat, and I just sit there,
watching through the keyhole, transfixed by the action,
with no sense of action in my entire body.
As the blood pours and her screams grow laboured—just like the movies—I’m not involved at all, even as she tries in vain to fight for her life, hoping for a Samaritan.
I hope she finds one. Really, I do.
Though, just like the movies, I'm not involved at all.
Not really.
No... not really.
I sit there, in apathy, sweet oblivion,
watching through the keyhole as another life is taken.
I pray it’s the last,
but secretly know it won’t be.
And when another has been taken,
and brought to the chamber,
I will be right here again—
watching through the keyhole, transfixed by the action.
Now all I hear is silence—
silence followed by the muffled sounds of movement.
The players are resetting the stage, so to speak.
I roll back in my chair, back to my bed.
Lying there content, thinking about the girl—
who she was, who will miss her.
—
Then I hear that familiar rat-a-tap-tap on my door.
“All good for tomorrow?” I ask the silence behind the door.
“Yes, boss… of course,” comes the hesitant, puffed-out response.
“Excellent,” I say, glancing once more at the dulled brass eye in my door.
*
Thanks for reading!
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!
Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Keep reading
More stories from Paul Stewart and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Hovering Cursor
Sometimes, restraint is the loudest truth. 💻⌛📝🤔🕊️🌊⚖️ At 10:45 p.m., Mavis reread the email for the umpteenth time. Every word bore truth. Events and witness statements. The credit unfairly claimed, the bribes stealthily offered, apologies that were never extended. Her cursor hovered; she changed her mind and saved the incriminating draft.
By Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (29)
Wow. Creepy ending. Well done guess you knew that, what with the W and all).
Loved these lines "There’s no harm in watching, when I’m the one behind closed doors. There’s no harm in watching, when it happens in the corridor." I feel a bit unsettled at the moment.. You have such a gift congrats on your win. I have to say I'm a bit jealous of all your badges! Not in a bad way though!
Darkness takes the win !! Congrats on this win you truly outdid yourself
Dude you have so many badges on your page now and you deserve every single one of them (and more). This is such a fun and disturbing take on the prompt - nicely done as always 👏
Well that was a twist I wasn't expecting... well wrought Papa Paul!! Congrats on another well deserved win!!
You drop hints like a pro, my friend! This is really well-wrought. The journey of his thoughts to those final five lines or so is superbly set up. I genuinely thought he was just a perv or sociopathic voyeur, but being what he actually is...? That's great storytelling. For me, it was the mention of "the chamber" that got me confused, and without that particular ending, it would have made no sense. A great device. So many congratulations, Paul. this deserves the win! You must be so over the moon!!
As I suspected, I have to agree with Vocal (though I didn't read every other story so I can't compare, maybe there was an overlooked masterpiece). This is winning material, even though you feel like it's not your best or most worthy. I think the simplicity and the profoundness of it is what makes it really outstanding. Congrats again!
Wooohooooo congratulations on your win! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Congratulations on your win for this well written but very dark story.
Congratulations on your win! I missed this when you published it but I'm so happy to be reading it as a winning piece. This was full of classic Paul, disturbing descent into darkness. I hesitate to say I enjoyed this, I'm not sure enjoy is the right word. Properly disturbed and creeped out seems more appropriate. But as always your storytelling was riveting, unfolding in the most unexpected and twisted ways. Well deserved win, my friend!
Congratulations, my liege!
Proper dark Paul!
Congratulations! Captivating story
Great storytelling! Very dark story, but loved the terrifying but unexpected ending!
So unsettling!! I love the extra step you went to in the end... completely unexpected. Loved this!!
Terrifying!
Dark and unsettling. The calm detachment makes the horror even more chilling
So he orchestrated it all? He likes to be the voyeur? That's warped, eh? I like the way you led us there although I don't like where it led.
Oh shit, you mean that the man in the wheelchair was behind this whole thing. For his entertainment. Whoaaa, that's effed up hahahahahahaha. Loved it!
M8 you weren’t lying when you said this one was royally fucked hahah great work
A frightening turn of events, well done!
Well, then! Our bystander (or sitter?) isn't just bystanding at all. Quite the harrowing tale here, sir! I'm curious; was the story built first, or is it ekphrastic? The image is a great fit, either way. Well done!
creepy idea-love twist
Creepy, and transfixing. You take the reader on a journey into the mind of a mad man without telling us. The slow build and reveal are done with just the right amount of information. Dripped in one sentence at a time. Paul this is brilliantly written, truly.
Wow, at first I felt bad because of course he couldn’t help her, he’s in a wheelchair. Then I wondered why he wouldn’t at least call the police afterwards. And then that twist at the end…that was fantastic! That was the kind of horror that I could imagine the late, great Vincent Price starring in. Excellent job.