The Creature Whose Eyes and Smile I Know

“The Creature Whose Eyes and Smile I Know”

by Julia Snyder '24

I blinked against the harsh light of the…computer screen? Why is it so bright? Hoping to spare my eyes, I looked up, only to feel my heart leap into my throat. I’m sitting at the dining room table, but I’m in a house that’s no longer mine. This house isn’t the way I left it it’s reverted back to its original state. The walls are so white that if the sun were to hit them, it would be equivalent to staring at my computer. Not only that, but the sofa is no longer a sectional, and the bookshelf is back to being empty by the stairs.

All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I can feel the beating of my heart. Don’t turn your head. But my body is no longer mine and I’m forced to look at the sliding door where I see it.

How do I begin to describe what I can’t focus on? Its very being is translucent, and its limbs are coming out of themselves. They glitch and deform with every movement it makes. But it has eyes eyes that stare into the depths of my soul and teeth that are pulled into a smile. What could be threatening about this creature? It’s outside my home. I’m safe. Until I watch in horror, glued to my chair, as it phases through the glass of the sliding door and is now standing inside. I know you.

It doesn’t move, it just stands there, smiling. We remain this way for a while, its keen eyes catching every shake of my shoulders, and its grin grows wider. The door. Turn right and run out. Scream for help. Those words echo in my head, but as I raise myself onto my shaking legs, I don’t turn right. What are you doing?! Like a fawn, I stumble towards the stairs that lead to the second floor instead. Somehow, I gained enough strength to run up the steps without tripping, and dash for the bathroom. I can feel its dark eyes -boring a hole into my back as it makes no move to follow me. Yet, when I reach the bathroom and turn to shut the door, there it is.

How?! The last thing I see are its teeth gleaming like the moon before I shut the door and…find myself back in my chair? Did I imagine all of that? My eyes are watering from the intensity of the computer screen, forcing me to look up. No. Don’t look towards the sliding door. Shut your eyes. But again, I’m forced to look at the sliding door, and my fears are confirmed. There it is. It almost seems amused by my struggle. I know you and you know me. Shivers run down my spine upon that realization.

I watch as it passes through the sliding door with ease. How does it do that? Its Cheshire grin is unwavering. It knows that I know. Again, I run, seeking protection from the bathroom. I’m not ready. Closing the door, I watch its eyes narrow ever so slightly before the door slams shut. But again, I’m back at the dining room table. It’s not going to let you leave until you face it. But I can’t. I refuse. Please, leave me be. But it persists, endlessly phasing through the glass with a single glance.

“The

Creature Whose Eyes and Smile I Know” continued

Let me out of this cycle, I beg you. Still, it doesn’t listen, trying to force me to face it. I’m not ready. Again, I run, fleeing from it, only to face the same ending: appearing in my chair. I’m sorry, but I can’t face you. Let's go our separate ways. But we won’t. We’ll keep going in circles, it coming in, with its looming presence suffocating me, me fleeing from it, and me reappearing in my chair.

The creature has never ending patience waiting for me to stop closing the door on it, better yet, to stop running from it. But it also knows that I won’t, and so, it’ll keep controlling the outcome, never freeing me from the cycle. Finally, only when it allows, when I blink again, I’ll see the ceiling of my current house and feel the comfort that the blankets provide me.

But it’s only a matter of time before the hourglass is flipped, counting down the seconds until it returns. You’ll be back to try again. But why? I dread it. On that fateful day in March, I’ll see you again, and you won’t be any clearer than the previous years. You’ll still be waiting for me to muster up the courage to face you. We both know I won’t. But still, you’ll try, and fail as always, only to return the following year. The cycle that I’m unable to escape will continue until I’m brave enough to confront you. My dear creature, whose eyes and smile I know very well, I’ll wait for you to return again.