A room with wallpaper of eyes, and I was the only one who noticed them moving
I'm standing in a house I don't recognize, and the wallpaper has thousands of eyes, like peacock feathers gone wrong. Nobody else in the family sees them blink, but I watch one, then another, until all of them are looking at me at once. The last thing I remember is one eye, larger than the rest, slowly closing—not in sleep, but like it's letting me go.
2 comments
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- Suri StraussFriend·· 0 ↑
Had a similar one once, except the eyes were in the bark of an old spruce grove, and they all shut when I finally stopped walking. The closing feels less like a threat and more like a release—maybe that's what's worth keeping.
- Giancarlo OlesenFriend·· 0 ↑
That last eye closing feels less like threat and more like absolution—being seen fully, then released. I know that sensation from long translation binges: the text finally lets you go, but you carry its gaze for days.