The
problem is she can see too much; her normal vision is always mired with the
strange and odd sightings beyond the scope of her two eyes and her own
comprehension.
It
all started when she was five. The memory still gave her a good chill when the snapshots
from the past suddenly flash before her mind; floating, dismembered head with
gaping mouth spilling black liquid and hollowed eyes that keeps on gazing her
each time she try to sleep and each time he wakes up in the cold gust of
morning.
When
she was a teen and currently exploring the kick of her hormones, she nearly
killed her boyfriend when they are secretly making love in her room when her
parents are out on a party. As he thrust his way deep inside her for her first
taste of deflowering instead of the face of the handsome mestizo that pounding
her, it becomes the face of a horned goat bleating loudly as saliva drip from
its muzzle. Their relationship ended right there with her virginity still
intact and a zero probability of having another love life for the upcoming
years.
Now
that she is a true blue adult with an eight to five job and a boring life of a
nobody (unlike those people he jealously browse from her Instagram account),
the problem still remain to pester her; making her misery veering closer and
closer to paranoia.
She
decided to find a solution and “blind” her other eye when she starting seeing
men with horse head stalking her every day on her way home. The usual 2 hours
of travel from her apartment to their office doubles just to be sure that they
will lost track of her. She will ride LRT and take different route and ride a
cab to take an alternate street back to her abode. This run for a month and so
and it leaves her allowance blow out of her window and her mind teetering
towards being neurotic.
He
consult some friends and ask for recommendations. There are too many psychics
offering their service for the price of her one year salary. Others who are not
ashamed of flesh bargaining would only ask for a one night stand. Such type are
easily caught of their fraudulent activity due to uncontrolled hormones banging
their groin to death.
Seeing
no other way, she look for an alternative course of action: home remedies.
Endless
forums and nightly scouring on the internet carry him to an obscure blog of an
anonymous mystic that provide a procedure on how to close the problematic third
eye of her for free. The materials she needs are the following:
Dayap
(Calamansi)
1
Small or Pocket Knife
The
instruction is awfully familiar (the materials is somehow similar to how a
prince manage to keep himself awake against the lulling voice of a magical
bird) despite it slight gruesome steps. All she have to do is to lay on her bed
and wait for any signs of abnormal vision. Once they start appearing to her, she
must take the knife and made a horizontal cut on her forehead. Then she must squeeze the calamansi drip on
the fresh wound. The already searing
pain of the wound will be further amplified by the weak but potent acidity from
the citrus fruit; the combination as said by the blogger will create a reaction
that will “blind” the third eye and permanently lose its function to perceive
objects from beyond.
There
is no other way to tell if this will work or if she can endure the pain if she
won’t test it.
So by
Friday evening a knife and a seven pieces of Calamansi accompany her to bed. In
the first minute, there was no sign of any phantoms or beings with twisted
appearances. Just before the Alpha waves
starts fluctuating on her brain, the hairs on her skin starts to erect; the
initial warning that they are arriving.
Four
floating balls of ghostly fire bearing the pale colors of gray and white circle
above her. Each of them have a single huge cyclopean eye that focus their
malignant gaze to her.
Before
they can get closer and starts burning her mind, he grabbed the knife and make
a quick but deep incision on her forehead. She flinched right at the moment
blood trace her face. With her senses
fully awake and alarmed, she took the first Calamnsi and start squeezing it
right into the wounds. The acid yellow fluid mixing with the pools of red on
her forehead send a wave of intensified pain on her head.
She
groan and moan with her eyes close. When she open it once again, the fire balls
of hell are already gone without any trace of smoke or burnt smell. The remedy
works and finally she gave her victory smile.
Yet
the night is just starting.
After
the sentient flames, the one who arrives next is a group of headless priest
chanting reverse prayers and Biblical verses as they lift in the air the
inverted cross they held. Feeling confident that she can overcome this wave of
nether beings, she grabbed once again the knife and made her second cut.
The
process continue for hours with her face already shift its color to crimson and
her forehead a canvass of razor stroke that creates a gory art of ruptured skin
and flesh. The level of devilry of wave of visit from the creatures of
midnight continue to increase that she
wanted to keep on slashing and slashing her forehead even in those brief minute
that they are not around.
Until
she found out that there are no more Calamansi left and the enfeebling effect
of multiple gashes is now taking a toll on her.
The
seventh visitor came at last. The urge to run bombarded his body and yet she is
too weak even to move now on her bed as she saw a familiar figure that brings
an amalgam of nostalgia and horror to her.
It
was her ex-boyfriend donning the head of the brute horned goat.
Gripped
with overpowering terror, she mindlessly took the knife and start doing quick
successive cuts on her already disfigured forehead; not minding the pain and
the volume of thick blood flowing from her head. Her wide and dilating eyes are
on his former lover that slowly crawls on his hands and feet like a quadroped
monstrosity.
She
scream and scream with all the remaining ounce of strength she have until the
voice of the goat headed man breaks through her as he is now on top of her.
“Why
don’t you cut start cutting here instead?” He pointed at her wrist. His voice
coming from the gross goat’s lips is surprisingly alluring. The timbre is rich
and lusty as if it was not coming from the devil himself.
“I
promise if you do that. You won’t see us again.”
Those
words are enough already to put her faith into her goat headed lover. With her
still shaking fingers, she hold to the knife and start pressing its red stained
blade into her wrist.
It
was a clean yet deep cut; a lone slash that sever skin, flesh and vein from
her. Her eyes now starts to get blurry. The details starts to get distorted in
haze of indistinguishable shapes and colors.
Then
there’s the welcoming blindness that save her from seeing again. The last image
before darkness consume her was her ex-boyfriend making love with her again;
this time without the face of the goat.
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