Blackest Eyes

Where am I?

Peter looks around, confused. The room is dark and dimly lit with red lights, one above his head, and the rest illuminating what seems to be the heads of three men - sitting on separate seats, facing him.

Who are these guys? Is this a dream?

He touches his face and looks at the reflection in the window next to him. He looks through it and squints to gather the details on what's on the outside.

Am I on a train?

The night is dark and the train seems to be moving at a very high speed. One can only see the trees closest to the train zoom past the window. Peter notices a pair of binoculars on a pole in front of the guy sitting farthest from him. He faces the three men and notices that neither of them are making eye contact with him. Rather, they are blankly staring into the space in front of them.

“Hey.”

He receives no response from either of them. He walks over to the one sitting closest to him and takes a look at his face. The man has a tired expression with unkempt hair and a scruffy beard.

“Where is this train going? How did I get here?”

The man keeps staring into space. Peter looks at the man for a few seconds and swears under his breath.

So weird.

He walks over to the next man who seems to be in his early twenties.

“Are you gonna talk? Or are you also gonna give me the silent treatment?”

Peter stares into the young man's eyes, bluish red under the light. He shakes his head and walks over to the third guy. The man is short, and his face is not well illuminated. He seems to be old, maybe in his eighties. Peter bends over to get a closer look at the old man's face.

“Christ!”

Peter screams in horror, and falls to the ground - breathing intensely. He maintains his distance for a few seconds, and then musters the courage to look at the old man's face again. He has a vertical cut that runs from the right side of the forehead down to his cheek.

“What the hell.”

He slowly inches closer to the old man.

“Sir, are you okay?”

The old man suddenly turns his head and looks into Peter’s eyes, revealing an eye that has been split open by the cut. Peter stands up and takes a step behind.

“Are...are you okay, sir?”

The old man points to his left wrist. Peter looks at his wrist and realizes he is wearing a digital watch. He presses the button on the side and the watch lights up. The time is 3:59 a.m.

“Why do you want the time? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

The old man points to his left wrist more vigorously and begins to moan in melancholy, still staring into Peter’s eyes. Taken aback, Peter panics, stumbles and falls into a seat.

“3:59. The time is 3:59am, alright.”

The old man stops moving, looks straight ahead, opens his mouth and begins to cry in agony, revealing a toothless abyss. The PA system on the train makes a screeching noise that startles Peter.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

The old man is still crying out loud. The announcer's mellifluous voice is the only solace to this chaos.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

Peter presses the button on his watch again. The time is 4:01 a.m.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

The old man stops crying as Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 begins to play on the PA system. Peter knows this song. It is played in prison, during break-time. The song soothes him as he closes his eyes.

Suddenly, Peter hears the old man choking. He turns to find the old man convulsing and frothing from his mouth. Peter rushes to him, attempting to grab hold of him as he falls to the floor.

There is light coming from outside the window that catches Peter's eye, but it is coming from afar. He rushes to the binoculars and notices blood stains on the glass. He wipes it with his sleeve and looks through it, searching for the source.

He looks at a young girl in tattered clothes, standing under a lamp post. She is holding four balloons in her right hand - one white and three black. Peter looks into her pitch black eyes, staring back at him…

Where am I?

Peter looks around, confused. The room is dimly lit with red lights, one above his head, and the rest illuminating what seems to be the heads of two men - sitting on separate seats, facing him.

Who are these guys? Is this a dream?

He touches his face and looks at the reflection in the window.

This has happened before.

Peter’s heart begins to pound. He notices a pair of binoculars mounted on a pole in front of the second man. He rushes to the first man and tightly grips his neck.

“If you don’t tell me where we are right now, I swear to God, I will snap your neck like a pencil.”

The first man, unperturbed, keeps staring ahead. Peter lets go of the man's neck and heads for the younger man. After taking a few steps, Peter screams and falls to the floor.

“Oh God!”

Peter stares at two symmetrical vertical cuts on the young man’s face, running from the top of his forehead to the bottom of the cheek. Both his eyeballs have been split open by the cut. Peter takes a step back, stumbles and falls on his wrist. The watch lights up. The time is 3:58 a.m.

How the...What's going on?

He gets up and begins to search his pants pocket frantically. Upon patting himself down, he notices a folded piece of paper in his breast pocket. He unfolds it and holds it close to the red light. The note seems to be hand written in red ink and it reads - “Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin - Peter 4:01”. He looks at his watch again. The time is 3:59 a.m.

What in God's name is going on?

Peter rushes to the first guy and holds his shoulder tight. He kneels in front of him and shakes him violently, hoping to get a response.

“Where is this train headed?”

Peter notices movement out of the corner of his eyes. The young man is staring at him and pointing to his left wrist. Peter gets a clear view of both the eyeballs, split through the middle. Peter begins to sob and makes a sign of the cross. He presses a button on his watch. The time is 3:59 a.m.

Peter’s mouth has gone dry and is unable to muster any words. The young man violently points to his left wrist, and then begins to slap it with the palm of his right hand. After a few slaps, blood begins to spurt from the wrist and splatter on the pole that has the binoculars mounted on top of it.

“It's…It's 3:59 a.m.”

The young man stops moving and begins to cry out loud, his black teeth perfectly illuminated in the red light. Peter, still sobbing, wipes his tears using the sleeves of his t-shirt. He notices that his sleeve has a red stain from where he wiped his cheeks. He wipes another tear with his finger, looks at the red teardrop, and begins to wail.

"Help! Somebody help!"

The young man is still crying out loud when the PA system makes a screeching noise that startles Peter.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

Peter, in a state of confusion, begins to punch the window.

“Let me out!”

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

Peter falls to the ground, weeping. His voice has but turned to whispers.

"Please, let me go."

The young man stops crying, as Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 begins to play on the PA system. Peter curls up on the floor, sobbing. He looks on as the young man falls to the floor, convulsing and frothing from his mouth.

There is light coming from outside the window, but it is coming from afar. Peter cautiously walks to the binoculars and wipes the young man's blood off of it. He peeps through it in search of the its source.

He looks at the young girl in tattered clothes, standing under a lamp post. She is holding four balloons in her right hand - two white and two black. Peter looks into her pitch black eyes, staring back at him…

Where am I?

Peter looks around. The room is dimly lit with red lights, one above his head, and the rest illuminating what seems to be the head of a man - sitting in the front, facing him. He notices a pair of binoculars mounted on a pole in front of the only other guy in the train.

He looks at the man and notices three cuts on his face. Two cuts from his forehead to the bottom of his cheek, splitting open both his eyes, and a third cut from ear to ear, cutting through the lower part of one of his ears. Peter gets up from his seat and hears a squishing sound. He looks underneath his shoe, and finds the missing piece of the man's ear, mashed under his weight.

He notices a piece of paper folded in his breast pocket. He unfolds it and holds it close to the red light. The note seems to be hand written in red ink - “As a result, they do not live the rest of their earthly lives for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God - Peter 4:02.” He presses a button on his watch. The time is 3:59 a.m.

The man in front of him points to his left wrist. Peter ignores him and slumps to the ground. The man starts slapping his left wrist with the palm of his right hand, blood spurting out and splattering everywhere. Peter begins to cry and so does the man in front of him. The PA system makes a screeching noise and Peter looks at it through the red tears.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

The man wails, slapping his wrist to the bone. Peter, sobbing, sits down on a seat with his face in his hands.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

Let me out... I need to find the man who killed them.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

Peter closes his ears and screams out loud.

The man stops hitting his wrist as Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 begins to play on the PA system. Peter gets up, and walks to the binoculars. The man in front of him has fallen to the floor, convulsing and frothing from his mouth.

There is light coming from outside the window, but it is coming from afar. Peter looks through the binoculars, apprehensively. He looks at the young girl in tattered clothes, standing under a lamp post. She is holding four balloons in her hand - three white and one black. Peter looks into her pitch black eyes, staring back at him…

Where am I?

Peter looks around. The room is dark with one red light above his head. He notices a pair of binoculars on a pole in front of him, not facing the window, but towards the seats where the other men had been sitting. He looks at his watch and presses a button on the side. The time is 3:58 a.m.

He wells up and begins to sob. He checks his breast pocket and finds a folded piece of paper. He gets up and brings it close to the red light - “For you have spent enough time in the past doing what pagans choose to do—living in debauchery, lust, drunkenness, orgies, carousing and detestable idolatry - Peter 4:03.” He drops to his knees and brings his hands together.

I'm innocent! Why is this happening to me?

The PA system makes a screeching noise and Peter looks at it.

“Next stop, suffering. Please use the designated binoculars.”

Peter gets up and looks at his reflection in the window. He notices the trails of blood on his face, remnants of his tears.

Beethoven - Symphony No. 5 begins to play on the PA system. Peter wipes a red teardrop as he walks over to the binoculars in front of him. The train begins to slow down. He looks through the binoculars and sees only darkness. And then...the melody stops abruptly.

“Next stop, DEATH. Please use the designated exits.”

Peter, unable to see anything through the binoculars, moves away from it and looks up. His face turns white. He is face to face with the young girl in tattered clothes, holding four white balloons in her hand.

“Next stop, DEATH. Please use the designated exits.”

Peter screams as he tries to get away from her. But, his legs deceive him. As he falls to the ground, his eyes roll up, and he begins to convulse and froth from his mouth.

“Next stop, DEATH. Please use the designated exits.”

The door to the train opens and two men enter it wearing a full hazmat suit. They stab Peter with a strong sedative and he becomes unconscious almost immediately.

“Cut. Great job people.”

The prop train looks like it's the real deal. Anybody standing inside would attest to that. A large television is attached to the window of the train that is playing the video - "Train ride in the night."

The Director, David, revolutionized the business by employing real scares to maintain the legitimacy of the horror movie. He suggested using death row inmates as pseudo-actors and induce them with a new fear toxin, ever slightly changing its potency to induce a different reaction from the subject during each attempt.

"Gather around. I'm gonna tell you the rules for the next attempt, and it is something we have never done before. You already know the statutory warning as mentioned under Section 456, paragraph 8 of the Death Row Test Subjects Act, so I don't want to repeat myself."

"What we are about to do here may be disturbing to a few folks, but we must strive for authenticity. The experimental hormone we are using for this attempt is still going to be the fear toxin, Corticotropin. Subject Twenty Seven, codenamed Peter, is on his sixth and final attempt, which means he has already survived 20 iterations today and we have reset his memory five times, which is far higher than anyone we've had to film. As you may have realized - he is the toughest nut we've ever had to crack. No one has ever survived more than 10 iterations, let alone 20."

"Now, here’s the important part, because the devil's in the details. Wipe his most recent memories. Reset his watch to 3:58am at the end of each iteration, just like we've done before. I am rescaling the Corticotropin percentages for the four iterations. First iteration, 26.2%. Second iteration, 46.9%. Third iteration, 61.8%. Fourth iteration, 99.99%."

There is a murmur in the room.

"I know it's a bit extreme, but; if this attempt does not kill the guy, we are legally bound to contact his reps and sign for his release. We can't let that happen. Let me let you in on a little secret. Do you know why he got the death row? Because he shot his wife and daughter, and burnt their bodies. His file says he has multiple personality disorder, and one of - him - did it, and he has no recollection of ever having done that. We should not feel any remorse for what we are about to do to him."

The murmur continues.

"Remember, we must strive for authenticity! Alright people, let’s get to work.”

The crowd disperses and David sits on the director's chair. Three men enter the train. The first man has a tired expression with unkempt hair and a scruffy beard. The second is a young man with bright blue eyes. And the third man has a cut from his right forehead to his cheeks, running through his right eye. A woman runs to the third man with a paintbrush that has been dipped in red acrylic paint. She dabs the paint into the cut and exits the train.

Two men in hazmat suits carry subject Twenty Seven into the train, and seat him facing the three men. The train door closes and is locked from the outside. The huge television attached to the window begins to play the video - "Train ride in the night."

“Attempt 6, Iteration 21. Action!"

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Thank you for taking the time out of your busy life to read this psychological horror story. If you liked what you read, I'd be delighted if you could comment (I'm still learning, so feedback would be golden), or shared it with anyone you think would enjoy it!

This is first of many from my "Collective Consciousness - Dystopia" short story series. Please be on the lookout for more, in the days/weeks/years to come.

Cheers!