Panic Stricken

Your eyes hold answers to questions unasked

He was crouched by a recently dead body. He received a text from an anonymous number. It stated an address and one piece of punctuation. A question mark.

“In ancient society, people believed that one’s last moments were imprinted on said persons eyes”

“So?”

“They were wrong” he looked up to where I was standing. “Traces are left, yes, just not on the eyes” he holds up a vile of red.

“Blood?” he makes an affirmative motion.

“It stains them from within.” He swirls the liquid so it moves up the bottle. “Their life-force, so it’s only fitting that it should hold the memory of their last moments in life.”

“How? Something like that should be impossible.”

“And who are you to decide what’s possible or not?” he raised himself from the ground, so that he now stood two inches above me. He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Look it’s a lot to take in.” his head moves slightly to the right.” Considering it practically goes against everything you know.”

As I started to remove his hand his left made for mine. He twists it so that my watch was now visible to him

“ We should get going”