VISIONS IN THE EYES

English IIIA, 1st period, 1/9/1986

VISIONS IN THE EYES

                Driving away, I looked back in the rearview mirror and breathed a sigh of relief.  It was all over; the crazy lady was dead.  No more nights looking at eyes on plates in reflective juice, it was all over! 

               It began when I first moved into my new old house one day in June.  It was very comfortable, yellow and white with green shutters. I loved it because it was my first very own place.  It had wooden floors and a magnificent stone fireplace in the living room.  Many days and nights were spent watching the flames jump up into the chimney and feeling the warmth it produced.

                I had a little white poodle named Baggins (from the Hobbit).  She was the cutest dog anybody could own.  She was truly frisky, wanting to play all the time.  Baggins seemed to have a special way of communicating with me.  I actually felt like we carried on conversations.  We understood each other.  Baggins always knew when I was depressed.  She felt it.  It was uncanny, this relationship we had.

                After I had been living there for a couple of months, my next door neighbor came over and introduced herself.  She was a sprite old lady, full of wit with lots to say.  She never talked about herself.  She just asked questions about me.  Her name was Agnes, the only name she ever told anyone.

                Baggins took right to her.  She would sit in Agnes’ lap for hours.  Agnes would always tell me what pretty eyes Baggins had.  She’d stare at them for hours.  I don’t know; it seemed pretty fishy to me.  However, I let her keep Baggins whenever I was gone since they took to each other so well (she was a lot cheaper than a kennel).

                One evening Baggins wanted to go outside.  I let her out thinking she would be all right.  The night was moonless as if an ominous dense cloud enveloped us.  It even crept into my house.  I could not understand, since the weatherman predicted a clear night.  Sure it was clear, clear black, that is.

                I went to the door and called for Baggins.  I called and called for a long time.  I sensed something was wrong.  I threw on my coat, grabbed a flashlight and ran out the door.  Walking up and down the street, I called for Baggins.  She was nowhere.  I went to Agnes’ house, rapped on the door which creaked open.  I called Agnes’ name several times.  No answer.  Her house was dimly lit with only flickering candles.  I kept my flashlight on.

            I kept calling both names but still no answer.  Where could Agnes be? Where was Baggins? I heard footsteps, light footsteps coming closer.  I turned to face the sound.  My light beam flashed on a gold cross.  In the center, an eye.  I moved my light up. It was Agnes.  She wore a long, black ceremonial robe and the gold cross was around her neck.  Agnes said she had been getting dressed for dinner.  She asked me to stay.  I asked why she didn’t answer my calls.  She said she didn’t want to.  Noticing a peculiar smell coming from the kitchen, I wrinkled my nose.  Agnes said she was preparing a delicacy.  I asked her if she had seen Baggins at all.  Reassuringly, she said not to worry, Baggins would be fine.

                She led me into her kitchen.  Looking around I saw candles everywhere, casting luminous shadows dancing on the ceiling and walls.  At the bottom of each candle was an eye.  The eyes followed me everywhere.  I asked Agnes why she had eyes on her cross and her candles.  She said because she loves eyes, they’re so expressive and they tell the true story.

                She sat me down at her triangular table.  In the middle was a large eye.  Placing my flashlight on the table, I nervously asked Agnes what’s for dinner.  She told me not to worry and poured the red wine into our crystal goblets.  She set tow plates on the table.  Cautiously, I lifted the cover from my plate.  I screamed!  There were two eyes floating in milky white sauce.  Agnes began to laugh hysterically which changed into a wicked chuckle.

                All of a sudden, the dancing shadows became dimensional taking the form of people and things that tormented me:  the dog on my jogging route lunged for my leg and bit it with blood dripping down my leg; a big vulture picked chunks of flesh off my arms; the slimy, green toads crawled all over me.  The room spun feverishly and I could still hear Agnes laughing when all went black.

                I woke up in front of my fireplace.  Agnes was sitting near me.  She had on a plain house dress; nothing resembled the ceremonial robes and cross.  I yelled for her to get away from me.  Puzzled, she asked me why?  Shaking my head I could not answer her. I called for Baggins, but she didn’t come.  I asked Agnes where Baggins was.  She said she had not come back since last night when I was at her house.  She explained that I got roaring drunk, passed out and had to be carried home.  Excusing myself, I left for the bathroom.  I crawled through the window, ran across my backyard to Agnes’. I entered her house.  Her kitchen was spotless.  No sign of anything.  The table was rectangular.  The candles were gone.  Was I going crazy?

                Hearing footsteps approach I turned around and saw Agnes standing at her door.  She told me I needed to go home and get some rest.  So I left.  As soon as she closed the door, I turned and went to her bay window.  Peeking in the window, I saw Agnes walking with a cat in her arms, gently stroking its fur.  She grabbed its neck and wrung it.  The cat was dead.  I screamed in horror.  Agnes laughing looked at me and threw the cat at the window.

                I ran to the door, threw it open and darted inside.  With my adrenaline flowing, I pushed her onto her tattered couch screaming, “You killed Baggins! You’ve killed all the animals in this neighborhood!  I bet you’d even kill a person!  Why didn’t you kill me?  You are crazy, woman!”  She didn’t answer.      

                “To top it off, you devour the eyes!  You should do to HELL!!”  I smacked her on the face.  I couldn’t stop.  I didn’t know what was happening to me.  One blow lead to another and another.  Finally, I had hit her so much she laid there limp.  I whipped around and stormed out of her house.  I ran home, went into my bedroom and started packing my suitcase.  I heard a little whimper.  Seeing Baggins outside my patio door, I let her in.  I picked her up and began to cry.

                I went back to Agnes’ so I could apologize.  She was gone. I checked all over her house.  As I passed through her bedroom, I could see her backyard.  Hanging from the big oak tree was Agnes.  I cried out.  She was already dead.

                No one understood why she did it, but I knew.  I found her diary.  One page revealed her reason.  It explained that her family had been killed by a pack of wild dogs while camping.  Her hatred for animals tormented her.  She thought she was going crazy.  Apologizing she wrote, “… eyes always tell the true story, why didn’t anyone look in mine?”