Pinned to the Spot Above

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Story is marked as mature.

Sitting on a toilet in a strange bathroom, I stared at the drain in the floor in front of me. Behind the tarnished, and in some places broken grid of metal, an eye stared back at me without blinking. I was pretty sure I was hallucinating because eyes don't look like that. I was no eye expert but it was big. It nearly filled the whole drain which was three, maybe four inches across. Worse than that, the oblong iris floated on a pad of spoiled yellow and white jelly that made my brain think of chunky pus, rancid fat, and an under-cooked egg.

It vanished in slow motion with a wet squelching sound as a grey curtain veiled the sickness of its gaze, breaking the staring contest that started as soon as I saw it. Then, equally slowly, it reappeared.

The thing had blinked.

That was the moment when it became real to me. Before it could have been my imagination but with that involuntary motion, I knew I had nothing to do with it. I wanted to run but my insides fluttered with violent intensity, nailing me to the spot.


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Comments (1 so far!)



The description of the eye made my stomache squirm. Truly grotesque!

  • #4283 Posted 3 years ago
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  • Published 3 years ago.
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