It’s an odd feeling, watching as someone is engulfed by fear and paranoia. It’s a terrible feeling knowing they fell victim to the hungry stomach of these beasts entirely. My brother, Jeremiah, is the one I allowed to be swallowed. It started with a slightly concerned comment, “I think someone was watching me while I walked home today.” I only half-listened as he described the skin-crawling sensation of eyes following his every step. “Strange,” I said when he finished his rambling. “I’m sure it’s just your imagination.” Imagination. Isn’t it odd how something that can weave the most beautiful stories can also be as deadly as a knife to the heart? That something so filled with life can destroy it just the same? A curse and a blessing entwined in despicable fate. I think Jeremiah realized shortly after his first few confessions of worry that I thought it was all in his head. After that the only inclination that something was wrong was in his actions. The blinds were always shut, he refused to leave the house unless absolutely necessary, and when he did he frantically scanned the surroundings. For who, or what, exactly I still don’t know. The day he disappeared was quiet. The house lacked its usual feeling of life as I walked to the kitchen for breakfast. It felt emptier than usual. A note on the table soon revealed why. “To my dearest sister, I must leave you. The eyes follow me everywhere and I can’t let them follow me to you. I’m sorry and hopefully one day you can forgive me for this. I love you, Jeremiah” In that moment, I understood what it meant to have dread wash over you like a cruel wave. Jeremiah confided genuine fear to me and I ignored him. And now he’s gone. I called the police shortly after discovering the note and searching the house. A detective that came by examined the note and explained that my brother may be in need of psychological treatment based off of his usage of “eyes” as opposed to a person or group. He considered the possibility of gang affiliation but I denied it because Jeremiah was never one to get involved with those types of crowds. Then again, I never thought he’d leave without warning like this either. They looked for years and never found him to confirm if any of the speculations were true. The case was taken off of the priority list but remained open. My dreams were plagued with nightmarish scenes full of glowing red eyes illuminating the possessed corpse of my brother. Chants rang out in my sleep startling me awake in the early morning hours, “The eyes, the eyes. Watch out for the eyes. They’re coming.” Then one day they stopped in one final scream, “The eyes have been satisfied.” The next day, Jeremiah was found dead on the other side of the world. No one knew how he’d gotten there without a trace. One thing they did know, however, brought paralyzingly fear coursing through my veins. Jeremiah’s eyes had been removed cleanly from their sockets.