Episode 5
Eyeless
No one knew when the phenomenon began. Initially, rumors spread rapidly throughout the town, captivating and terrifying the residents in equal measure. It was only a matter of time until the police got involved.
Detective Willson stared at the gruesome pictures of yet another case in the unsolvable series of crimes. The victim lay in a bloody blanket, gazing up unseeingly, for he had no eyes he could see through. They’ve been savagely gouged out by the perpetrator, leaving dark empty sockets in which maggots whirled and pecked at the pieces of scrambled brain. A distinctive feature of the murders, and what was perhaps most unsettling of all, was the expression of pure bliss upon their stiff, pale faces.
It made the detective question whether or not the culprit was using some kind of hallucinogen before his executions. As he sifted through the pile of documents, he heard his phone ringing. His colleague on the other end of the line informed him of a rather strange occurrence. One of the victims had survived the attack, though it had left him scarred to the point he could barely remember his name. He had to be injected with several rounds of antipsychotics to rid him of his restless, erratic behavior.
They took him to the police station for questioning, his face covered in bandages from the nose up.
“Can you tell me your name?” Asked the detective.
“No, sir,” said the man. “The drugs they gave me made me forget who I am. Who I was…”
“Do you remember the face of the perpetrator? Can you describe him?”
“A perpetrator?” The man tilted his head, confused.
“What is the last thing you remember?”
“That, my friend,” the man twisted his expression into a mixture of peace and despondency. “That’s a night I’ll never be able to forget.”
Detective Willson was confused by the victim’s statement, and his strangely calm tone of voice unnerved him even further than his blood-soaked bandage and the ragged look on his face.
“I’ve been suffering from a chronic case of sleep paralysis, detective,” the man began. “I thought that last night was one of them. My limbs wouldn’t move, no matter what I did or how much I tried to wiggle myself awake. At first, I couldn’t even open my eyes. They remained sealed shut as I felt the crushing weight upon my chest,” he smiled an eerie grin, which further puzzled the detective. “And then I felt a sudden warmth as if my heart was being set on fire. I opened my eyes at last to see an angel.”
“An angel? Can you describe its appearance?”
The man took a moment to think, then shook his head.
“I doubt there are words in any earthly language that can describe its ineffable beauty. A creature of pure light and harmony. It’s wings were like a child’s laughter; its eyes were like two galaxies pulling me deeper the longer had my gaze on them, they were of color I’ve never seen before; it’s wings were like a soft melody on a summer day; it’s glistening body illuminated my very soul; it’s voice voice sounded sweeter than an ocean made of honey. A being of true beauty, one mankind is not prepared to witness, lest their minds spiral into madness from the sheer tranquility of their nature. I was no different. When the angel disappeared, I realized how ugly this world truly was. I couldn’t stand it. It was like eating ambrosia after spending your whole life feasting upon feces. I cursed my sight, knowing full well I could not spend a minute longer witnessing the filth of this world. I’m at peace now. My eyes will no longer be prisoners to ugliness.”
