Ficlets

The Faces, I tell myself they’re nothing, I say they don’t exist. I know they do. They talk to me, horrid whispers. I keep telling myself they don’t exist, it’s just in my head, it’s all in my head. The eyes that stare out from every corner. Please, please don’t exist. If they exist, then I’m crazy, I’m okay with that. If, however, they do exist, then there’s something out there that I don’t think anyone is ready to handle. They’re there, I’m telling you now, waiting to be seen, they need to be seen to be substantial, they need to be substantial to feed. Their chalky white faces ebony eyes and knife-like teeth, haunting my waking and sleeping hours. Please, please don’t exist.