Like something I wrote?A few more days have passed and my 'condition', as I have taken to calling it, has progressed rapidly. I realise I have made a terrible mistake by so much as ever having stopped to ponder the inner workings of our eyes. I should have left the matter alone; left it in better hands. My main problem now is this: even if our eyes are closed they are still very much active, taking in the backs of our eyelids. The spirits have found their way even into there. Far short of being a safe haven away from them, my efforts to evade them through sleep have become akin to entering a cage filled with starved lions.
I can see them right now, trying to claw their way in from the corners of my vision. When I blink, leaving the relative security of sun or candle and entering the unforgiving backdrop that is my eyelids, their forms change from deranged tangles of tiny fingers in my periphery into entire ghostly faces mere inches in front of me, mouths agape and filled with teeth that stretch the full distance of their chasmous maws. Despite their lack of words or any semblance of human expression they distinctly promise the extinction of my fragile family lineage by means of my demise.
It is now, in what are likely final moments, that I pray my words have not cursed you, too, dearest reader. Despite my strongest efforts I am just barely able to pen these final words. The spirits are now so aggressive, so everywhere in front of me, undulating with such violence as my eyes blink and unblink that I no longer have the ability to see if my words are making it onto the page.
Ifyou've made itthis far PLEASEdo whatever youmust to ensure the world remainsignorant of what lies just out of eye's sight.
Wi th greatestsincerety ,
El lio t
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