The Chosen One

Contributor: Harry Noussias

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How long were they pounding on the door?

Lately I have been falling into these very deep and disturbing sleeps. I was not lying in bed when I heard the pounding. I wish I was. I was on the floor. How I got there I don’t know. All I know is that when I awake from these sleeps I can’t remember anything.

I did not want to answer the door because I knew what those on the other side would have to say – that I was chosen.

At least sleep allowed me, if only for a little while, to escape the horrifying events that were taking place around the village.

But, why me? I’m not an investigator. And, I’m surely not a hunter. Besides, I don’t even know what to believe about what was happening.

It didn’t really matter to anyone what I thought or felt or believed. The village council voted and I was chosen.

So, I went out as instructed into the woods. And in the very early eerie hours of the morn, when nothing stirred and even the silence was silent, I sat motionless moving not a single muscle as the mist of the fog drifted and swirled and thickened and settled and finally engulfed me.

I did not know fear nor feared what I did not know of those tales of attacks and of a dreadfully frightening howl or of piercing evil eyes that glow in the dark.

Glowing eyes, they all saw glowing eyes.

I came armed only with my disbelief. Perhaps that is why I was chosen.

But the endless wait weighed heavily upon my eyes and soon sleep was beckoning me. No longer did I peer into the vast darkness. No longer did I hear the endless silence.

There was nothing out there, nothing to report, no dreadfully frightening howl, no eyes that glow in the dark, nothing.

There was nothing at all.

Finally sleep, that soothing temptress, took me and we drifted off together for a while. It was just for a little while, only a short while.

There was nothing to fear, nothing at all.

I awoke as the sun rose and returned to learn of more savage attacks and death and those glowing eyes.

I failed. What would people say? I don’t know why they had to choose me in the first place. But, I was the one that was chosen, and I failed miserably. I saw nothing. I heard nothing.

I sat alone sipping my hot brew and pondering all the events.

She was coming again – sleep. From a distance she was relaxing me, hypnotizing me, trying to take me away. But, this time I wasn’t going to invite her in.

It would be just me and the warmth of the black liquid I was drinking. Coffee is good. Coffee can keep me awake.

But as I gazed into my cup of coffee, in my own reflection I could see – glowing eyes staring back at me.

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Harry Noussias is a writer of short stories, plays and poetry. His works may be found in various online and print magazines.
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