Eyes

by Steve Barber

Her eyes were striking. A deep emerald green with flecks of gold, their sparkle inflamed me. I had to have them.

I was obsessed, I admit, but not without good cause as you can see. Yet she didn't understand. She called me insane; tried to run (as if I could ever hurt her), but the chloroform did its job. All I wanted were her eyes.

I held the right eyelid open, pushed in the spoon, twisted it and scraped. Then I did the left. They joined the others in a jar on my mantle. But sadly, like the others, they soon lost their luster.

#

Yesterday I saw a woman with the most uncommon blue eyes. It will be different this time.