One career, two visions. One on the cutting edge of modernity, the other centuries old. The doctor held two titles, one with respect the other with a taint of disdain. But the one thing he loved above all else was eyes. He loved what they had to tell—-it was one thing you could trust. His favorite quote was framed on the wall: “When I talk of eyes, the stars come out!” Charles Dickens Surely, the eyes are the stars in the dark skull. As has often been heard, and he believed this with all of his heart, the eyes are the windows to the soul—-or more often than not to the empty stare of what is not there. He loved those heavenly orbs, hated those satanic spheres. The daughters of Eve had them both, they could be mother or blinding serpents to man. The sun came out from behind the clouds, it’s light through the window made him open his eyes. He looked up and saw his degrees on the wall across from him. He smiled at his name in large letters: Edward Ethan Ellis. He loved those first letters, those ‘E-s’ always reminded him of the vision charts, pointing to the right, just maybe that’s why he had become an ophthalmologist. It was the right way. He knew everything about the science of eyes, but that was just the iris, pupil, cornea and retina. The fleshy machine. That was his way of serving man. Yet, he had always felt a higher calling. A calling from God. Did not God say let there be light and that it was good? He wanted to be good. He wanted to be doctor and messiah. A healing priest, an exorcist of blind souls. He knew that was what he had become. The second degree on the wall—-his colleagues thought that it was not proper, not scientific—-held his name in shiny gilded letters with radiant silver rays projecting from the center announcing his Doctorate of Divinity. He could see all things in all those eyes that came to him. They only came with earthly complaints, but he often found their spiritual cause. He had vision. He healed and cleaned the sin of the world. A son of Adam, a healer of Eves. Edward Ethan Ellis was a servant of God. A Lucifer never fallen, a bearer of light to the world. A slayer of the dark. He knew, he knew this was right. His thoughts were disrupted, “Dr. Ellis, your first patient has arrived.” “Thank you, Mrs. Matiaorosi, please bring her in.” The first and last hours of the day were saved for charity. A religious duty. They came from addiction clinics and prostitute shelters. Those Magdalenes that he treated for free, freeing their souls. And Mrs. Matiarosi always led them in. Her orthodox cross shielding her from their filth. She hoped the appointments after might prove more rewarding. She yearned for a virgin for her son Tyflos. Just the right age, blond and pure like the Virgin—-at least in the pictures she knew. These others, well she helped get them right back out the door. To a place they deserved. Those whores. The door opened wide again, Mrs. Matiarosi did everything she could to avoid being touched by the thin bones in the pumped-up boobed blouse. She blushed and felt shame for that slut, but she knew the doctor knew what to do to help her see the err of her ways. To save her and others from her sinning self. She thought of her son, Tyflos. The door shut with a bang making the young woman shake, or maybe it was the methadone wearing off. He smiled and stood from behind his desk. “I hear you’ve had a hard time seeing.” She nodded, not one word came from her mouth. He could see that she had tried to cover her sallow, hollow face with the redness of rouge and lipstick. Her eyes, but shadows, were darkened with mascara and coal gray eyeshadow. Her eyes, also red, poisoned with some kind of infection. Putrid flesh. He held his nose closed. The doctor knew he did not need to look long and deep into her eyes to know only darkness and evil dwelt there. The world will be a better place without her, he reminded himself. But he knew, he needed to stay pure as a healing priest and messiah. So, he let the work be done by God. God who had made all creatures great and small. The Good Book said he loved them all. Edward Ethan Ellis knew especially two: Demodex folliculorum and Demodex brevis. Those eye mites too tiny to see, cleanse the edges of eyes. God’s servants, too. Their diet was of dead cells and a bit of oil. He had gently, genetically changed them—-he prayed God would not mind—-he had made them hungry to devour the sin of Eve—-that brittle, lesser being from a rib—-just the lesser part of man. With a little twist of DNA he made them more hungry, starving to devour the sin held in eyes. These special mites not only sucked on sebaceous oils and the grease of cosmetics. They also bored and bit through the eyes to the brain where evil thoughts were held, letting the bloody sin flow as in an Old Testament sacrifice. He felt his heart pound, he was a healer and savior, God’s chosen one. Before walking over for the examination and the release of her soul, he put on his surgical gloves and rubbed them in a Pyrex jar. He knew they must be swarming there, but each oblong body was less then 3 millimeters long. He didn’t feel a thing, nor would she—-at first anyway. He examined those infected eyes. He was glad those sterile gloves kept him from feeling her carnal flesh. He turned away from her and he began to pretend to write out a prescription that she didn’t need. There was a scream, her hands slapped her own face. He hoped in her pain, her soul would be freed. It didn’t last long. Then those mites, changed as they were, starved if not fed for more than ten minutes. There was no danger there. Such tainted mutton for a lamb sacrifice. Mrs. Matiarosi knew the drill. She came in ready with a dirty sheet. They rolled her in it and carried her outside. Later after closing hours they would find an alley and a dumpster. No questions were ever asked when the lifeless body of a lost sinner was found, especially one that was missing its eyes. But that day was an unusual day. The purification had taken longer than they thought and the door to the clinic opened to reveal a virgin with celestial blue eyes. “I haven’t made an appointment, is the doctor in?—-I think I may have something caught in my eye.” “Sure, sure, come right in!” Mrs. Matiarosi thought she may have found a saint, someone who could take her place, for her son. Dr. Edward Ethan Ellis was also astounded, she was beatific, her eyes a blessing. He tried to restrain the rise he felt inside and between his legs. His hands twisted to help him get a hold on himself. He pulled the gloves off and pointed the way to his office as he twisted those gloves in his naked, sweaty hands. “Come, come in Miss—-“ “I’m Mary,” she said. Both the doctor and Mrs. Matiarosi exchanged the twinkles in their eyes. They smiled and winked and nodded their heads. Each thought she would be theirs. As the door closed, he had a hard time calming his breath. His heart pounded, he reminded himself he was a healer and a savior, God’s chosen one and maybe now God had chosen for him a bride. Not all Eves were evil, some were just like Mary who brought salvation to the world by giving birth to a son. “Have a seat Miss—-I mean Mary—-let me have a look at those eyes.” He tried to keep his hands from shaking and tears from rolling down his face. She was perfect—-she was immaculate. She squirmed a bit in the seat, her eyes wide wondering what was behind his. Those dark pupils of his, full and black dilated. She thought he looked and sounded like some rutting beast. His breath came in grunts. She never had seen a doctor shake and stumble with his words as he did. He turned away from her—-this Eve. He took both hands to rub his eyes, he wanted to expunge those dirty, dirty thoughts raging within him. He reminded himself, her name was Mary. He rubbed his eyes again, he wanted to bring light to them once more. He felt a twinge, a tweak, a scalpel like pain. Blood coated his fingers, he looked at Mary. “You made me do this,” his breathing came out in ragged spurts. “Why?” He had forgotten to sterilize his hands after removing those gloves. Blinded by her tempting beauty. His soul was no longer clean. The blood burst into a flow, he reached out to her and screamed, “Save me, oh Mother of God.” She jumped from the examination chair and flew out the door. Mrs. Matiarosi, who had been listening to choral music through her earphones, looked up as she was going out the door and said in a hurry, “Oh, young Miss—-I mean Miss Mary—-I have a son who’d love to meet you!” Mary could only pray in a scream, “God help me!” And she found help in a policeman standing right outside the door. He held her as he called for support. A team arrived to find no one at reception, but in the examination room they found a body, the body of Edward Ethan Ellis on the floor. He was face up with a black, blank stare and his hands were raised, pressed together in prayer. His lips frozen in a plea for forgiveness. There was only his blood, none of the savior’s. They could see the bones of his skull, two dark windows with nothing there. The lead detective knelt down close to that face to seek for any evidence. He felt a slight prickle across his cheek as if something had jumped. His eyes watered, he felt a twinge, a tweak. The blood began to flow again. All creatures great and small. God had made them all. Well, mostly.