Yellow eyes.

You find yourself walking into your college, staring at the paved ground as you climb the flight of stairs. Your mind is filled with ideas for your next story but you have no motivation. You open the doors to the three story brick building, taking your steps carefully, sidestepping crowds of kids your age who chatter loudly next to your ears. As you reach into your pocket for your earbuds, you get a notification from your mother. You check what it says reluctantly, knowing it'll be some cringe miss you message since you're across the country. "Hello honey, how's college going? I know it's only been two weeks since you've started at Artkens but me and your step father miss you. XOXO." You let a sigh of boredom escape between your lips, putting in your earbuds and start to blast your playlist. You continue walking to your locker, barely dodging the teens and adults crowding the hallways. As you approach your locker, you notice an envelope sticking out of the air gaps. You pull it out and notice the heart wax seal that keeps the envelope closed. Thinking someone messed up the address for their love letter, you toss it into the nearest trash bin without even bothering to open it. You go back to your locker and put in the code until you hear the click meaning it is unlocked. You grab your books for your next class when you notice a small rose laying at the bottom of your locker near your feet. Your eyes narrow a bit, wondering why someone would mess up so bad with locker addresses. You shut the locker, leaving the rose where you find it and make your way through the now more calm hallways. You walk into the mainly empty classroom besides the smoke addict teacher and a few lazy teens who spend their lives cooped up and were recommended this class for better mental stability. The reason you're here is because of your trauma with your birth father, who was an alcoholic and abusive. You sit near the back and open your textbook about ways to calm down from anger issues. You've never had any problem with any of your emotions but your therapist says you show too little now, that you may be emotionless. As you listen to the raspy teacher's voice talk on 'n on about ways to calm your frustration, you feel a heated stare burning the side of your face, as if someone is watching you. You slowly peek to the side but all there is is the window that shows the courtyard of the college, with a giant cherry blossom tree garden. In the middle, there is an old but beautiful fountain full of coins from kids making wishes during the past few years they may have been here. The cherry blossom trees cover the ground in bright pink petals and give the place a magnificent look. As you search for what you feel is staring at you, you catch a glimpse of a person in one of the cherry blossom trees. They're wearing a black hood over their head while they wear the winter school uniform. You feel a cold shiver run up your spine when you see gleaming yellow eyes stare back into yours. You feel a rush of anxiety, they're perched on the tree, staring at you, and glowing yellow eyes peek from the shadows of their hood. You can't make out a single detail about their physical appearance besides their slim, tall shape and the terrifying eyes that glower down at you. When you blink, the figure is gone, all that's left is the branches swaying in the light wind, casting petals onto the pavement.