Eyes of Another

(1,830 Words)

The way I view the world is a vast experience. With pure eyes, like a hawk, I notice everything, and nothing. I am an observant force, always plotting, always looking for something.

No two people are the same. One walks with a sense of accomplishment, striding with the steps of a king. The other, right beside him, walks downtrodden, like a great sense of wisdom is being created with every wake of his feet.

I glance down from my stoop. I notice a family; Just a family. A Pair of kids and their parents look cheerful. It is so refreshing to see such happiness in this world. Happiness only true love can create. I feel a powerful surge of energy ripple through my mind; the kind that shows hope in this world.

Without that kind of love, this world would most certainly be condemned. It is what keeps human kind from their main power instinct. The instinct that drives us more than any other: slaughter.

I feel the breeze of the mid-afternoon air. An old beggar is thrown out of a library. People practically trample him trying to get to their next destinations. He is lonely, and full of redemption; trying to find a place in this world, just like the rest of us.

“Why don’t you go out and get a job, you bum!” I hear a ruddy, obsessive businessman yell at him.

I despise people like that. They cannot sympathize for anyone, even those that have done nothing wrong to their wellbeing. They walk with their umbrellas and suede, consistently walking over the suffering; acting like the power and money hungry crazed they truly are.

A bird flies by, perching at the top of a small tree, a tree which waves as the bird nestles nicely on a branch. It looks so weathered and old, but also small and decrepit. The tree reminds me of my childhood; so small, insignificant, and only known as yet another item in this world that cannot make a difference.

The swift panting of a dog is heard from around the corner. A jogger, in bright green neon, runs alongside the mongrel; sweat rushing from her head. I see her body move as she continues on her way. The curvature of her body is astounding. As her body flows with the jog, I begin to fantasize…. But I get knocked right back into this world. No time for daydreaming.

The sun shines through a series of hindering clouds. The break is astonishing. The radiance shines right down where it is guided: Onto a wedding scene right in the middle of the park.

The wedding is so beautiful, even for me. Thousands of flowers, ribbons, and glorious décor surround the scene. It creates such an amazing feeling; the feeling of brand new passion. It moves me so strongly; I can feel my eyes watering. I remember the past. I remember new love, the strength of old love, and the loss of decaying love. All things I have experienced; too much.

The sound of kids screaming, echoing from the other side of the corner, startles me. I glance over abruptly, only to notice a series of children playing with jump ropes, balls, and other toys. All of them huddle around, playfully cheering and laughing; enjoying life’s simple pleasures, while still having life by the handle. It was awkward to think I had more in common with these adolescents then with my own peers.

I have always been drawn towards protecting children.

They give me a sense of hopeful promise; hopefulness of the future, and their leading inevitability. Today, the youth have so much to be thankful for, and in the future, they will have so much to govern. So much weight put upon their shoulders, and the faith of achievement.

My leg feels a tingling sensation, the tingling sensation I get when I sit for too long. I shake it off. The numbness slowly creeps away. Spasms would annihilate me right now.

A series of people drive up, get out, get in, and move around through taxis. The bustling of people has never been new to me. It just always concerns me how everyone rushes through their lives, and never stops to notice their feelings.

And especially never stops to notice anyone else’s. This world is full of too much swiftness. So many burdens are put on becoming successful and making money. So many people become the slaves of such ideals, and therefore are destroyed. Their names never remembered, their stories never told. They become just another chapter, of a book that will never be written.

I sigh, and continue to look upon the world of so many; so many lives, with so few who take advantage of them.

An old woman attempts a brave move across the busy street. No one comes to her aid. As she inches across, I feel the nerves in my body tense. The last thing I want is an innocent life lost today. Her old decaying legs barely hold her as she hurries as best she can, the slosh of the grounds wetness crafting an even tougher path. I gain the sudden urge to aid her before something horrible happens.

But there is no danger.

The speeding cars come to a screeching halt. I hear some of the bastards inside yell at her to move, honking like madmen. They stick their heads out of their windows, screaming obscene lingo, mixed with the details of being in a scurry. Figures.

Their Cadillac’s and Mercedes show their true colors. They are just pawns, within a world of such corrupt nature.

The impatience and ignorance of everyday society irritates me. It almost drives me to an unrecoverable extreme. My grip tightens, and I can feel the blood pumping throughout my veins. My heart rate becomes dangerous, and I feel my cheeks flush with color.

I take a breath, and pull it together. There is no need to sink to their level, to become a hound for the greediness they all serve. There is little reasoning behind hiding in our tormented minds, lashing out at those who attempt to harm us.

A spider climbs down a series of interconnected webs. It gains polarity as it weaves in and out, and attempts to create something beautiful. The spider is alone, with absolutely no true motivation, but endurance. It crawls with inspiration, trying to craft its deceptive trap.

It always puzzled me how such hated creatures continue to be creationists of these magnificent designs. They live a life of solitude, a life of only one priority: surviving. Their worries are scarce, and only aim to gain protection from those that despise it so. They are looked upon as ugly, dangerous, and obstructing; yet, the beauty never ends.

I saw myself within that spider.

I hear cheers and loud congratulations coming from the park.

“Damnit,” I say underneath my breath. I always do this. I get so entranced in the world surrounding me that I barely remember what I was doing beforehand.

The surrounding area becomes narrow and glistening as I stare down at the wedding through a tunnel. This vision always gave me a sense of power, of judgment, of pure choice. My heart rate ceases, and I hold my breath.

I look directly at the groom kissing his brand new bride. Everyone is so happy. The love within this couple radiates like the flames from the sun. The beauty of the young couple really belongs in some kind of fairytale. Everyone cheering, the décor beautiful like a movie, and the happiness growing with every heartbeat.

I fire a single shot. It spirals through the air, whistling as it causes a crushing blow into the grooms’ temple. The blood splatters through the air, as he drops to the floor; the bride screams. The scream had to be heard for miles. The fairytale is now gone, replaced with a fate of reality that no one wants to believe.

I pull back the handle, cocking the weapon, and take aim again.

Everyone looks so surprised. Some cower, some run for help, and others move towards the groom to aid. Without a beat, the best man reaches into his jacket. A look of emergence in his eyes, a single shell flips out of the back of my rifle, and he drops to the ground with a hard thud. The aim was perfect, with the enter wound right in the temple.

I never miss.

The now-widowed bride cries over her late husband. Cries of despair echo through the wind. After the second shot, those gathered to help the groom, now cowardly go for cover. They underestimate my abilities. But, nonetheless, I am not here for them. Well, most of them.

I fire once more, putting a hole into the flower girls head. She was young, no older then the children playing in the street. Her long blonde hair becomes stained with a shade of red a lesser man would have dropped over. I feel an emotion far back in my head; an emotion of regret. I ignore it.

My mission was clear: Massacre the wedding. I had to do just that. I had to be quick, effective, and hard hitting. I would not fail.

The shouts and cries of despair rage on.

The frenzy I feel is indescribable. It’s what makes me so good at this: The ability to fire upon anyone, anywhere, and completely separate myself from them; completely separating my morals from the situation. Morals did not belong in a world so crude. Though I held them, I never let them interfere with what I had to do. What I needed to do.

Another man reaches into his pocket, only to be put down where he belongs: In the dirt, like the rest of the parasites. Instead of trying to help his family and friends, he attempts retribution. That is the kind of individual this world doesn’t need.


My job is done. As the sirens are heard, I am nowhere to be found. There is no evidence of my participation.

In a world full of pain, and suffering there is only one thing you can do. Persevere. I would never say I am a perfect individual. I am simply trying to survive in a world with no justice; a world with only make believe morals, and thoughts of encouragement that end in no one truly caring.

Some would say I am a terrible person, other’s would say I am sick beyond belief. But one only needs to look into the mirror to notice their inner demons.

But instead, they will continue to wear their masks, pretending as if their way of thinking was any better.

So I make my escape. Tonight, it will be hard to sleep.

As I think of all the love, beauty, and passion this world holds, I wonder why humans are always thrown back into that spiral.

That spiral of violence and suffering.