The Eye
It’s late. You shouldn’t be up like this, you know. It’s not healthy, surrounding yourself in utter darkness, with nothing but a dull monitor to illuminate your surroundings, utterly defenseless. Your internal conscious could already be laughing at me. You could be thinking to yourself that you are entirely aware of where this is going. Well, it’s your funeral. I’m here to warn you. In precisely four minutes and thirteen seconds, something will catch the corner of your eye. You’ll turn your head sharply, attempting to focus your vision. Your cat will slink past, wryly waving its tail. Your relief will overcome you, as you gently welcome your feline companion into your lap. In exhaustion, the poor animal will collapse, a purr of contentment filling the air. As you continue perusing the internet, you will notice something strange about your pet. You look down, to notice a note has been tucked into its collar. It’s blank. You question this, but return to the internet. Your cat shivers, stretches, and jumps from your lap, scurrying off. The note, which you’ve conveniently placed next to your computer, begins to bleed with dark ink. You open the crumpled paper, holding it to the light of the monitor. It’s then that an illustration of an eye will appear. It’s then you realize that you don’t own a cat. Now, this is retribution. If you have any hope of saving yourself, find a scrap of paper. Draw the eye. Turn off your monitor. Surround yourself by darkness. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Blink, and this will all be for naught. You will be dead before you even felt your eyes close. Kneel. Fold the illustration, and place it within arms reach of you. By now, you should feel it on you. The eye will be watching. It will choke your breath. You must try. Utter the following: “I can see you.” Drop the illustration, and return to your computer. I’m sorry to say, the watchful eye will never cease. You will always feel it. It’s watching you now. Nice shirt. Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.