STORY STARTER
âBut I donât want to go to bed, the man with no eyes is waiting for me in the closet!â
Write a horror or thriller story that contains this piece of speech. Is this a literal fear, or is this some kind of illusion?
No Eyes
âBut I donât want to go to bed, the man with no eyes is waiting for me in the closet!â
Clark Davidson sighed in exasperation. âBaby, weâve talked about this, remember?â
His daughter looked up at him wet eyes. âI know, but-â
Clark rests a hand on little Ameliaâs shoulder and gently squeezes, cutting her off. âNo buts, okay? The man with no eyes isnât real, and youâre mom and are going to keep you safe.
Amelia sniffles and nods, but the twisting of her little hands gives away her uncertainty, and her eye repeatedly darted to the closet. Clark knew what she wanted him to do; what he couldnât do.
A desperate frustration builds in Clarkâs chest. It had been a week since heâd had a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe the therapist was right, that giving in to Ameliaâs compulsive checking would only validate her fears, but Clark was exhausted. He shouldnât check the closet. But if he didnât, Amelia would wake them up in the middle of the night again. He and his wife would have to soothe her, and then he would have to change out Ameliaâs piss-soaked sheets. After that, Amelia would refuse to go back to her own room, and Clarkeâs wife would give in and let her sleep in their bed. And after all of that, Clark wouldânt be able to get back to sleep, and heâd be forced to start the next day and do the whole thing over. Again.
The responsible part of Clark tells him to obey the therapist. Endure the hours of lost sleep for the sake of his daughterâs wellbeing. But the overworked and sleep deprived part of Clark demands rest, and he cannot be denied.
Despite the little tug of guilt in his gut, Clark gives his daughter a weak smile. âWould it make you feel better if I checked the closet?â
Ameliaâs face brightens with hopeful surprise. âReally, daddy?â
âYeah, baby, come on.â
Amelia hides behind her fatherâs legs as moved to the closet. He opens it, and as always, itâs empty.
Putting Amelia to bed is easy after that. The nervous energy melts out her, and her eyes droop as he kisses her goodnight. Clark leaves to his own room, and the reassurance of a good nightâs sleep already makes him feel better rested.
Amelia closes her eyes and snuggles into her covers. A twinge of anxiety and a need for reassurance remains, but itâs dulled by a sleepy haze. Before long, her breathing becomes slow and steady.
The âman-with-no-eyesâ begins to regain its shape. Rematerializing is slower and more taxing this time, and the creature is hungrier than itâs been in a long time. It will need more of the girl than it has taken the nights before. It weakly shambles to the girlâs bed, and begins to feed.
Clark wakes up to the sound of his alarm clock, and for the first time that week, he feels fully rested. He hums to himself as he gets out of bed and starts his morning routine. He makes himself breakfast, and by the time heâs finished his coffee, itâs time to wake Amelia for school. He sets aside some scrambled eggs for Amelia before heading to her room.
When he opens her door, Amelia is still fast asleep. He notices a small puddle of drool on her pillow as he comes closer, and a pang of affection makes him chuckle.
He shakes her gently. âWake up, sleepyhead, itâs time to get ready for school.â
Ameliaâs face scrunches in protest, but with a bit more coaxing, her eyes begin to slowly open.
For a moment, Clark thinks he must be imaging things, or still dreaming. But moments pass, and what sees stays the same, and he screams.
Amelia has no eyes, and she is hungry.