Dragonfly Eyes

His head was throbbing; it was like a jackhammer pounding from the inside of his skull. His side felt as if it was on fire, but a quick inspection showed nothing out of the ordinary. He half expected to see exposed ribs from the way it hurt. His hands shook from an anxiety that he didn’t understand and his stomach rolled as if he were nervous about something he had done, or something he would do. Maybe it was both. Attempting to steady his hands, he noted that his nails were caked with reddish-brown mud. God, I hope it’s just mud.

Joseph wasn’t sure how he ended up here in this hole-in-the-wall bar. He had never seen this place before, and wasn’t even sure what town he was in. The barmaid, an unfortunate looking woman, walked up and asked in a raspy voice what he wanted to drink. After looking him up and down, he was certain she would tell him that only paying customers were welcome here. He just mumbled something incoherently, and somehow she picked an answer out of that, because moments later, she came back with a drink. She placed the dirty glass of brew on the table, the liquid steaming and foaming, the noxious fumes stinging his senses. There’s no way I’m drinking that.

Turning in his seat, he glanced around the bar, trying to put the puzzle pieces of the day together, and figure out where he was.  There were only three other people besides himself and the barmaid in the room. A thin woman with a scraggly knot of hair barely covering her pate pushed a dirty mop sullenly across the floor. She never looked up, and though she carried herself in a fashion that denoted youth, her hands were those of an older woman. In contrast, a very large, elderly man was sitting alone at a table in the corner. He seemed to be mumbling to himself as he shoveled bite after bite of his corned beef and cabbage into his mouth. He never took his eyes off of his plate, and Joseph was certain that the man would remain oblivious to everyone in the bar unless they interfered with his food. The last person in the bar was a young man sitting in a chair in the corner. He was obscured by shadows, only a glint from his eyes told Joseph that he was watching him. 

The man stood up and walked into the light, his mouth curled up into a slight smile. Brushing his hands onto his jeans, he walked over and sat at the empty stool next to Joseph. He turned, and for a long, uncomfortable moment, he simply stared at the side of Joseph’s head. Trying to ignore him, Joseph picked up his drink and began to swirl it in his hand. Just ignore him, he’ll go away. He tilted the dirty glass up to his lips.

“I wouldn’t drink that. And no, I won’t go away if you ignore me.”

“But why?” Joseph asked in a tentative voice.

The young man laughed. His laughter sounded melodious at first, but the longer it went on, the more evident it became to Joseph that it lacked mirth. Looking up, the first thing he noticed were the man’s eyes. Their color was unlike any eye color Joseph had ever seen before. One moment they were silver, then blue, and the next moment, green. It was like watching a dragonfly’s scintillating wings on a sunny day.

As abruptly as it started, the man’s laughter died. “You’ll have to be more specific. Why should you not drink that drink? Or, why won’t I go away?”

Joseph’s hands began to sweat. Though he couldn’t see any of their faces, he could almost sense the level of fear in the room elevate. Even the gluttonous man in the corner stopped his meal; all of the patrons seemed ready to flee.  The man beside Joseph had not moved, had not even blinked. He had the same smile on his face, a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“Well Joseph? Which is it? Which question are you asking?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Ah, a third question.” The man’s smile was replaced with a look of mild amazement. “Truly? You don’t know me? My, my, I almost forget what it is to be new. Don’t worry Joseph, my boy. It will come back to you. Every bloody detail will come back. Enjoy this time of blissful ignorance while it lasts.” The man got up and glanced at each patron before turning back to Joseph. “Remember, don’t drink that,” he said, pointing at the glass in Joseph’s hand. “You’ll know where to find me soon enough. You’re new, but you’ll figure it out.”

Joseph expected the tension to leave the room once the door closed behind the mysterious man, but it was still there. Now, however, the object of their tension seemed to be Joseph, himself. He placed the drink back on the table, noting that his hands were decidedly steadier, and walked over to the bar. The barmaid froze, her eyes darting first, at the untouched glass on the table, and then at Joseph. He could almost smell her fear, and it took a moment for him to realize that the faint rhythmic sound he had been hearing as he approached the bar was the beating of her heart.

Joseph’s memory of earlier that night came crashing back to him. He was in a bar with people screaming, begging for mercy, dying. The man that was here earlier had…changed him the night before. To what, he didn’t know, but whatever he was now, he needed to feed. Somewhere outside, a howl broke the silence of the peaceful town. He knew it was the man with the strange eyes. Turning back to the barmaid, he saw his own eyes reflected in hers. They were eyes filled with hunger and scintillating death; dragonfly eyes.