They Were Eyes

White specks sat still in the darkness. Tiny imperfections breaking the black sheets of night that had enveloped the campground. I hadn’t noticed them at first. And when I did, I didn’t know what they were … again, not at first. I had stayed up past everyone else, the other 3 members of my party lay sleeping in our tents; two of them in a tent to my right, one in the tent to my left. Two white specks sat directly between the tents, suspended about 7 feet from the ground. They were eyes.

I had first noticed them after stoking the campfire. My drunken state caused me to become mesmerized by the flames. Brilliant shades of orange, white, and blue danced in uncoordinated unison across the smoldering logs of wood. Even while sober, fire always fascinated me, how something so destructive can also be the sole source of warmth, light, and bonding – when contained. I averted my eyes from the cabaret of light to reach for the bottle of bourbon I had been nursing most of the night. It was as I brought the bottle to my lips that I noticed the specks from across the flames. They were eyes.

At first, before I knew what they were, the specks didn’t scare me. Did you know that you can always see your nose, but your brain is so complex that it filters it out and fills in the blank with its best guess? The reason I bring this up is because at first my brain thought I was looking at two stars. It’s night, it’s dark outside, and we’re far into Northern Minnesota – my brain’s best guess was stars. But as I became more aware of my surroundings, two things quickly disproved this theory: 1. It had been lightly raining most of the day, and a thick sheet of clouds would be covering the night sky. 2. These “stars” were about the size of softballs and would sway back and forth ever so slightly. They were eyes.

You know how the more you know about something, the less it scares you? Like taxes? Or cooking? And how the more you understand it, and learn about it, and realize it’s goals you almost develop a sort of respect for that thing? That didn’t happen here. Fear set in, that’s what happened. In horror movies you take a backseat role and scoff at the silly, irrational decisions that characters make. You think to yourself, “I’d do things differently. I’d do things right.” I thought that I would be the same way. That poised with a frightening scenario, I’d be able to see through the clutter and make the “right decision”. However, in this situation, I froze. No decisions went through my head. No problem solving. No rational thought. Only one thing kept repeating itself in my mind: They were eyes.

 I couldn’t make out anything else about the supposed creature between the tents. It was too dark to get an outline of its body, and the heat from the fire further obscured my vision. And I was drunk. I generally believe that things in this world put out a certain energy, feeling, or vibe. A close friend might bring laughter, Parents might bring security, a significant other might bring calmness. The energy in this situation felt wrong. It felt like I was at a disadvantage. For what? I don’t know. It felt like I was being hunted. Like we were being hunted. In my stare-down with the creature I had become oblivious to the fact that it was standing no further than five feet away from my friends. Would they want to know? Would ignorance be better than the horror between them? Would they want to know that they were not just white specks? They were eyes.

From the moment I looked up, realized what the white specks were, and experienced my horror – only about 10 seconds had gone by. The initial shock had passed. It was now the time for action. Directly behind me was the pick-up truck my friends and I drove in with. We didn’t bring any weapons with us, and the keys to the truck was in one of the tents, but it was unlocked and I thought maybe if I could get the headlights turned on I could possibly scare the creature off. Or at least see it. There was only a swallow of bourbon left in the glass container. I finished it up partly for courage, partly due to instincts, and partly not to waste good alcohol. Then grabbing the bottle by its neck, I flung it as hard as I could at the eyes. I heard the crash of breaking glass as I whirled around to make my dash for the truck. And it was as I turned around that I saw what was behind me. It was about 20 more white specks. They were eyes.