They say that Eyes are the Windows to the Soul | Teen Ink

They say that Eyes are the Windows to the Soul

August 19, 2019
By maxinebrigue BRONZE, London, New York
maxinebrigue BRONZE, London, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

My internal clock forced me to look up from my book and stare at the empty space in front of the platform where the train should have been. It was late. I looked up at the notice board and sure enough it showed that the train was five minutes late, with the number rising. I sank back into the cold metal seat and continued reading my book. What power did I have?

The shuffling of feet echoed throughout the station.  I watched as men and women tried to walk busily along the platform edge, desperate to preoccupy themselves. One woman in front of me stood with her feet apart and her head held high. I smiled. She was practising her power stance as if that would will the train to come faster. I checked to board again. The time momentarily went down to two minutes then climbed to eight minutes. A sigh that, was very much universal, escaped my mouth.

After a few more long minutes, the train arrived and I took my place, squashed between several men and woman. However, as the train pulled up, it brought with it a very large and very sudden gush of wind that sent my school skirt flying up to the sky. I rolled my eyes; the people in the train were being greeted by my poorly executed Marilyn Monroe impression. But, looking around, I realised how funny it was that no-one else was affected by the breeze. Anyway...

The doors opened and the people piled on. From the window, I saw people dodge and dive for empty seats with a courteous and pleasant smile on their faces. I placed my foot on the step and, as if by a chemical reaction, a man appeared on the other end of the platform, screeching like a banshee. With my foot continuing to hover between the platform and my destination, I watched the man.

“Don’t do it Princesa,” he seemed to saying. He had dishevelled hair and eyes so wide and dark it looked as if the train could have driven through them, mistaking his eyes for a tunnel. The people around him were either to proper to watch such madness or too eager to get out of the cold to care. I took another breath. At first glance, he looked as if he had just rolled out of bed but his clothes screamed otherwise. Unlike what would be excepted, his clothes were not mismatched or dirty, instead, there were tears running down his top and his trousers looked scuffed and blotchy. This man had been in a fight.

The man took a step further, but like another reaction, the whistle of the train sent a gentle reminder to me to get on the train or remove my foot.

“Please, Princesa. Stop!” He was running now. Running fast. The doors closed. Climbing on board, I realised that the girl he was talking to must have been right behind me because the Mystery Man was staring right at me. The man watched, dejected, as the train sped away. I turned away from the window, what kind of name was “Princesa” anyway?

The train was a forlorn place filled with forlorn people all dressed in black like they were all going to one big funeral. Until then, it seemed that their only comfort appeared to be their phones.

I walked away from the door and scanned the full seats. I walked down the aisle, stumbling as the fluorescent yellow lights blinded me. I tried to be careful but I soon found myself falling with a deafening crash into a random empty seat.

I felt the colour rush to my face as I hastily watched the faces of the people around me but I was thankfully greeted by bowed heads. It was kind of funny. The adults here didn’t want to see anything. A sudden snort caught my attention. I sank into my seat as he sniggered and gave me a nasty stare. Almost all the adults didn’t care.

Anxious to ease the situation, I tried, and failed, to read my book. Yes, I could see and read the words but no world formed around me. All because the man in front of me was still watching me. In fact, as I had leaned back, he had leaned forward. Careful to still look engaged in the book, I examined the man. He had dark hair and a tan face. His mouth still displayed that rueful and coy smile he had showed me before. And, under that, there was a small rip in his shirt collar. Had I not been sitting so close, I wouldn’t have seen it. From afar the man seemed like all the other adults on the train, except, he was looking up.

I continued to feel the man’s gaze on me. He was searching for something in me, looking through the files in my mind, seeking a history that would grant him permission to take further action. I clenched my jaw, still “reading” my book. What was I supposed to do? He wasn’t touching me, or saying anything. Yet, I could feel his cold hands caressing my memories, begging for more. Almost involuntarily, I recounted my early childhood. I thought about my family, naming my parents for the man. More and more files seemed to jump at me asking questions. I shuddered slightly despite the warm air blowing from the vents.

I waited for him to finish. What was I to do? Between interrogations, I started to wonder what the man was looking for. I thought about if I had seen something or heard something that he would want see. The only thing that came to me was The Mystery Man from the platform, now miles away.

I had struck the right cord. The man in front of me widened his smile showing me his perfect white teeth. With my memories scattered across my mind, I was reminded of Little Red Riding Hood and how great those teeth were to eat me.

His hands finally reached out to grab me.

“Hello Princesa,” he whispered. His voice was both enticing and strangling. And, his words were electrifying. Princesa. I was Princesa and the Mystery Man was looking for me. Bright light filled the room as something was sparked within me. A fire was crackling inside me and beginning to rage. It poured out and attacked the man. Had the people around been watching, they would have seen a wave of fiery light explode from my eyes aimed at the smiling man opposite me. It was like a laser. And, in one second, the man rather neatly crumbled to dust in his seat.

What now? And, more importantly, what had just happened?

“Nice shot,” someone said. The flame in me kick started again and I jumped out of me seat, my eyes glaring.

“Easy, Princesa,” the Mystery Man said. For some reason, I didn’t care about how he got on the train, I was just happy to see him. He didn’t look desperate anymore, actually he looked almost proud. He wore a smirk and raised eyebrows and, up close, his eyes didn’t seem so dark anymore. The Mystery Man ran his hand through his hair as I stood shaking with exhilaration.

What had just happened?

“Let’s get out of here.” Though the train had stopped, I knew we were not getting off at a station.

Once again, my eyes filled with light. But, it was different this time. This time, I was disappearing from here and reappearing somewhere else. I was going there.

“You’re gonna love this,” the Mystery Man seemed to be saying.


The author's comments:

Ever gotten that feeling that you are being watched before?

Well, this short story is kind of based on a true story where a man would not stop staring at me on the train. But, I won't give it all away.


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