#BlogBattle 21 Theme: Eye
On any given day, he’d have looked the other way, but not today. Timothy couldn’t ignore it. He’d rather walk away and pretend he’d never seen it.
“Not me. Not now!”
There was no denying it. The Evil Eye was staring him in the face. He could try all manner of escape, but now the Eye had seen him it would follow wherever he went.
Everyone would see and shun him. He would soon be cast off into the great abyss with all those who’d been looked upon by the Evil Eye. Every window he passed by, every computer he came near would glare it.
Timothy could imagine the looks of horror passing over mother’s faces as they shielded their children’s eyes from his shame. He shuddered at the thought and tried to think of what he’d done to deserve the Evil Eye?
He hadn’t shared an opinion. He hadn’t jay-walked or spoke out of turn with his boss. In fact, he’d never spoken to his boss or about his boss in the fifteen years he’d slaved away in the lab.
Working conditions were far below par, but who was Timothy to say anything about it? He wouldn’t dare speak up for fear of being turned in to the authorities and seen by the Evil Eye.
Saying anything against anyone, no matter how kindly it was said, but especially in relation to the governance, was considered hate speech. The danger was too great to bother, so like most, he kept his mouth shut.
Timothy had done everything he could, every day, to avoid the Evil Eye. Yet here he was, staring at its glaring cruelty next to his own photograph on his own television screen.
He stared down at his shoes and tried not to cry. What was the point of staying in line and obeying when years of flying under the radar didn’t save you from the Evil Eye? Timothy didn’t have the foggiest clue what the answer to the question was, but he did know he didn’t want to go to the abyss.
It was dark there. Forever dark.
His shoes didn’t seem to have an answer to his dilemma. He gave up staring at them on his feet. The TV screen still glared the Evil Eye at him, but he didn’t return the favor. He swiveled on his foot and walked out the door, his head held high.
Timothy marched down the street, and every person he passed gave him a quick glance but looked away. He looked at his name badge and could see why. Instead of his name, the little electronic screen now reflected the Evil Eye.
On impulse, the next person he passed–a young lady with mousey brown hair and glasses–he grabbed her arm.
“Do not believe the Evil Eye. It is a lie! A lie!”
She screeched and yanked her arm free of his grasp.
Timothy stepped out into the street, he stood in the center, stopping all traffic. He started yelling at the top of his lungs. “The truth can’t be hidden behind silence! Don’t believe you have no voice! You have a voice! Speak out! Share! Be human! Be kind!”
No sooner had he started shouting than the sound of a helicopter grew louder. Almost at once his words were drowned out by the thwapping of the blades above him.
He looked up and saw the Evil Eye reflected on the bottom of the copter and knew. They’d come for him. He’d wasted his whole life hiding behind his own silence and fear.
Someone dressed in black dropped down on a rope from above, wrapped another around Timothy who stood without moving, and dragged him into the copter.
No word was said, but for the first time, Timothy could see the truth. Every rooftop had the Eye painted upon it. The black abyss, with all its uncertainty, was better than living under the threat of the Evil Eye.