"Suck His Eyes"

Chainsaw

Jason heard the voice under his bed as he slept that night. He thought he was dreaming, not realizing he was fully awake, when the voice started.

“We will suck his eyes out,” one of the voices said.

“We will drink his blood and get high like that kite,” another voice said.

“We will feast on his flesh and be full of life.”

And then all the voices chanted together: “We will drink his blood, suck his eyes, and feast on his flesh. We will suck his brain and chew his bones to suck the marrow out.”

Jason bolted out of bed with a terrified scream. He dropped to his knees and peered under it—nothing. He heaved a sigh of relief.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder.

With a scream, he spun around—no one.

Another hand ruffled his hair. He jumped, screaming again.

Suddenly his computer flashed on. Bold red letters pulsed across the screen: SUCK HIS EYES.

He took a step back, bumping into the window. Peering out, he thought he saw a figure standing outside—tall, dressed all in black, wearing a hat… or was that a mask? He squinted, trying to see the face. The man held a chainsaw in his right hand. When their eyes met, Jason shuddered at the malice in them. The man dragged his left thumb across his throat, ear to ear, then pointed at Jason.

What crime did I commit to deserve this horror? Jason wondered, tears streaming down his face. He had no idea what to do as the man advanced toward the house.

He started praying.

A voice laughed. “Ha, ha, ha. Prayer can never save you.”

Jason bolted from the room, fear clawing at his chest. He ran outside—and was tackled by a corpse.

As he hit the ground, he caught a glimpse of the body and screamed. It was rotten, eyes missing, teeth decaying, maggots crawling from the nose.

He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to his neighbor’s house, pounding on the door. 

Mr. Wick was having the night of his life with Clara, the girl he’d crushed on for nearly six months. He’d suffered in silence for so long; when she finally agreed to come over, he was the happiest man alive. Things were going perfectly—he was this close to scoring—when the banging started.

He cursed under his breath but ignored it.

Clara frowned. “Go check the door. I can’t concentrate.”

“We just need to chill,” he said. “They’ll go away if no one answers.”

But the banging persisted. Reluctantly, he agreed.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Mr. Wick grinned, adjusting his pants to hide his erection so whoever was at the door wouldn’t notice. He hurried over—and saw Jason, white as a sheet.

Anger flared. Jason knew he’d be with Clara tonight—they’d talked about it. So why the hell was he interrupting?

He yanked the door open with a growl, but Jason beat him to it, rushing inside with wild eyes.

“Close the damn door!” Jason yelled.

Mr. Wick’s words stuck in his throat at the sheer terror on Jason’s face.

“You don’t give orders in my house,” Mr. Wick snapped, ignoring the plea.

“Please—close the door! There’s someone out there trying to kill me!”

“Yeah? And you brought them here, knowing I’d be busy?”

At that moment, the tall figure in black stepped into view.

Mr. Wick still faced Jason, back to the door. He saw the color drain from Jason’s face, saw him start to shake, and turned to see what had caused it.

When he turned, he saw the man in black — chainsaw roaring — striding toward his house, humming in a wet, guttural chant:

"We will suck his eyes,

We will feast on his flesh and drink his blood."

Mr. Wick shuddered and slammed the door shut, dragging the sofa across the floor to wedge it in place.

"Am I dreaming?" he whispered, grabbing Jason by the collar with a trembling fist.

"You're not dreaming," Jason said**, voice cracking**. "It's real."

"Why bring him here?"

"I had nowhere else to go," Jason sobbed.

"What the hell did you do to deserve this?"

"Card?" Jason blinked, confused.

"Don't play dumb."

At that moment, the chant drifted down from upstairs:

"We will suck his eyes and drink his blood,

We will feast on his flesh and be full."

They both jerked their heads upward. Clara glided down the stairs, eyes blank as polished glass, lips moving in perfect sync with the song.

"What did you bring into my house?" Mr. Wick hissed, taking a step back.

The chainsaw growled to life behind the door. He spun just as the man in black began carving through the wood.

Jason stood frozen, watching Clara’s empty gaze and the blade chewing closer.

He turned to Mr. Wick. "Please. Kill me."

"You're insane. You want the easy way out? What about me?"

"Just do it."

"Shut up and fight."

The chainsaw’s hum swelled, echoing like a swarm inside their skulls. They clamped hands over their ears as blood trickled from their eyes. The voice rose in a roar:

"We will suck their eyes with the juice of blood flowing freely,

We will feast on their flesh with glee.

Oh, the juicy marrow in the bone will nourish us.

Feast on their flesh.

Drink their blood.

Suck their eyes."

The words pounded, relentless. Both men screamed and collapsed, unconscious from terror and blood loss.

The man in black kicked through the splintered door. He knelt, pressed a gloved finger into Jason’s eye socket, and popped the orb free. Then Mr. Wick’s.

He lifted one to his lips and sucked.

A mouth — wet, lipless, impossible — materialized in the air and latched onto the streaming sockets, drinking deeply.

The chant continued, softer now, almost tender:

"We will feast on the flesh… and suck on the marrow."

The End