Thirty-nine Eyeballs Down My Throat
A door lays in front of me as I hold a silver ticket in my right hand. “A one-way ticket to find love,” was labeled across the ticket in bold gold lettering. I walked up to the door and opened it, the smell of apple pie filling my nose, as I walked to the center ticket booth. An old man was standing up in a silver-gold uniform. The geezer was bald with puffy white hair sticking out from the sides, leading into sideburns that started to form a small beard. He slowly raises his hand and starts to speak in a booming voice, “Ticket please,”.
I place my ticket into his hand, and he turns around and starts to shuffle around in a box of masks. After a minute, he turns back to me. The old man had a grin on his face as he slid the mask across the countertop. On the mask was labeled, “Wear me!” I raised it above my head and placed the mask on blinding me. I felt a frigid wind cover my body, as my hands slowly felt a burn turn into cold icy steel.
Slowly the mask fell off my face, and I was blinded to adjust to seeing light again. My hands bonded with black steel cuffs. My body felt bare, open, and naked; bound by a chain around my neck. The red X covered in glitter had captured my attention while I was drifting over it. The air smelled like bitter cinnamon apples. In front of me were fourteen different women each covered under the hood of darkness, sitting in some wooden chairs. Over their heads was a sign that read in big black times new roman “infatuations and disappointments, the goal of life”.
A young lady from the far right got up and started to walk toward me. The young lady had kinky brown hair. Her face was covered in freckles like had chocolate dropped on her face. She had a blue dress on and held a flower in her left hand, a cross on her chest was a pitch-black upside-down pentagram. When she reached in front of me I could see her eyes. A deep emerald green that fit her smile to perfection.
The young lady swiftly places her hand on her face and covers her eye. She moved her hand to where the fingertips laid perfectly on her eyelid. The lady arched her fingers back and pressed down, and a small amount of blood started to flow onto her fingers. What sounded like a rope being ripped apart rippled in the room. As she moves her hand away from her face, she drops the flower from her other hand onto the ground. Her left-hand reaches for my face placing the thumb on my chin. The lady pulled down forcing my mouth open. Her right-hand plunges its way into; my mouth, a mixture of the taste of my saliva and the blood on her hand fills my mouth. I felt what handled like a jelly orb touch the base of my tongue as it slid down my throat.
A voice slowly echoes through my mind, “Why don’t we join under the lord? It would be so great to have your soul saved,”. The voice was raspy as if metal was being rubbed together. My body shivered and shook as she moved her hand in my mouth as placed her second eye, the horrible sound of tearing following before the feeling of jelly covered my tongue. I quickly bite down and pull my head away as far as I can. The hand crawled in my mouth, like a spider going up walls in a desperate attempt to escape.
The hand snaked its way down my throat, the tips of its fingers tapping on the soft tissue of my esophagus. The lady slowly had a tear roll down her cheek as whispered to herself. She walks past me and the sound of tapping from the soles of her shoes on metal flooring fades away, a small tear starts to form in my left eye. I try to turn my head around, but the chain locks my head in place, forcing me to look at the other 13 women.
From the far right side of the chairs, a woman with a baseball hat and a ponytail walks up to me with quick, but powerful steps. She stood in front of me and placed her hand on her eye, ripping it away from her, creating the awful sound of rope tearing. The ponytail woman made a fist and shoved it down my throat, I would feel the horrid feeling of jelly roll down my throat as she placed her other hand on my chest. She soon left like a young lady. Taking decisive steps on the metal floor. My eye started to feel as though it was a balloon, swelling like an egg.
After the endless cycle of women, each one is different yet similar to the other. The swelling in my right eye was bubbling up. It reminded me of having a massive pimple ready to pop, the feeling of the build-up of fluid. After the last woman came to me doing the same thing as the dozen before, a dark scarlet curtain came down and soft music started to play. A rush of pain courses through me as my eye feels like pins were pressed against the inside of my skin around my eye. Slowly the skin was pierced, and the young lady’s hand popped out holding my eye.
The hand swiftly clawed into my mouth, Using one finger to press it up, one to anchor itself as it plunged into me. I could see the pink flesh surroundings of my mouth as the hand dropped the eye and let it slide down my throat, but it stopped halfway. My throat was built up with eyes as my eye crashed with a jelly ball. The hand forced my mouth open and climbed out and scurried away. Via my eye, I could see the curtain rise and fourteen women were sitting in wooden chairs covered by the hood of darkness. A middle-aged woman slowly walked up to me with a flower in her hand. I could see through the frames of my teeth as she raised her hand to her eye.
