Hiding in the dark was a set of green eyes.
They watched passerby with a lukewarm malice, waiting for them to take the wrong step, make the wrong move.
The eyes belonged to It. It had been there for 120 years. It did not know where it came from. One night it was just there, simmering with malevolence.
The first time It pounced the rush was amazing. Blood pounded in its ears as bones cracked. The sound, the feel, the taste…it was electrifying.
But as the years passed the excitement dulled. That electricity, once so all-consuming, became a colourless drizzle.
What was it still doing here?
Did it even want to pounce anymore?
It yearned for something else, something it did not understand. It saw that Thing in the faces of the humans it stalked. In the way their lips curved upwards, in the crinkles that appeared around their eyes. It heard the Thing too, sometimes, in their voices when they talked.
There was a frustrating familiarity to this Thing, as if it was something It had once had but lost. It began to remember things, vague feelings, confusing images. It remembered walking past this same cavern with that same Thing dancing in its veins. It remembered wondering what lived in the darkness beyond the entrance. Then, a sharp pain – and it remembered hands clawing at its neck, and an overwhelming fear, a hopelessness, an anger.
It watches the humans now but it lets them be. It cannot end them for the Thing lives on in them.
So it waits in the dark, and it watches.
Silently, hungrily, it watches.
(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)
Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto prompt: Green