Blind Man Game

Everyone will, at least once in their lives think- “I’m not going to make it.” So here’s my advice to you when it happens. “Close your eyes, and don’t forget to breathe.”

When I was little, my friends and I used to play a game. I can’t remember what it was called or who started it but it went like this;

 

“Let’s say you are the blind man and I am the hypnotist.”

 

“Alright blind man, here’s how it goes. You’re going to stand on this and close your eyes and keep them closed no matter what anyone says. Just imagine what we say and keep your eyes shut. You got it? Good.”

 

I’ll place you at the edge of something, a bottom stair or on top of a small box and stand behind you. You’ll close your eyes and count backwards from ten.

 

“Ten.”

 

The room will go quiet outside of the counting. No one will speak a word or move a muscle. In order for this to work there has to be complete cooperation from everyone participating. Including you.

 

“Nine.”

 

“Eight.”

 

“Seven.”

 

At this point everyone will count with you.

 

“Six.”

 

“Five.”

 

“Four.”

 

When you reach this point the voices will dull down to a whisper and you yourself will stop. They will continue on without you.

 

“Three”

 

“Two”

 

One is never reached, silence descends and you concentrate on the black behind your eyelids. I will stand behind you and tell you a story about yourself. Your job is to visualize it as it happens. The others will help the story as it goes along.

 

“You are tired, you want to sleep but something in the back of your mind is telling you to wake up.”

 

“Don’t fall asleep.” The others whisper softly from around the room.

 

“You need to get up.”

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

You feel an overwhelming urge to do just that. Maybe his is part of the game and maybe someone in a scary mask will be standing in front of you if you do. Instead of doing just that you keep to the instructions given at the beginning of the game and just imagine yourself opening your eyes.

 

“When your eyes flutter open, briefly you see flashing lights and shadows dancing back and forth. Someone steps on your hand and you realize that you’re on the ground and you can’t move yourself away from the stomping feet around you. Someone kicks your leg and you pass out again.”

 

“You have to get out.”

 

“Says the voice again. There is a rush of alertness and your eyes snap open. They open but see no more than they did before. Everything is dark and for a moment you believe you’ve gone blind.”

 

“Just wait, but not for too long. You need to get up. You need to go.”

 

“The voice is a whisper that grows softer and softer. As it fades your vision adjusts to the dark. You are underneath something, something you realize as you begin to see more and more is actually a bunch of boxes set up like a table. They sound like soda boxes but you aren’t sure. There is a glow a few meters away from you and you think you’re in a Grocery store of some kind.”

 

“Get out now!”

 

“The voice is trying to scream but it’s so soft you can barely make it out. Its intention is clear to you despite this. Where you are is not where you need to be. You pull yourself up and stumble towards the light but the voice buzzes and you think that might be a bad idea.

 

“The silence around you is thick and every noise you make seems to echo loudly around you. You’re shoe scuffs against something as you sink into the darker aisles further away from the light and you reach down to feel what it was. Before you can touch it you hear a different kind of scuffle further near the back of the store and realize maybe you need to move a lot faster instead of just snailing towards the registers.

 

“You move away from the lump when you bump into another one. The scuffling gets louder and louder. You make a run for it, trying to get away quickly while simultaneously trying to hop over whatever the dead weight lumps lying around are. You reach the front and hope that nothing on your person sets off the alarm.

 

“Instead of risking it you slide onto the register and behind the counter, bypassing the sensors completely. You take off towards the doors and nearly slam into them in your panic. Your hands grab at the sliding doors and they hesitate before giving a groan and easing open. There is a clicking sound as you leave. It’s like the sound of small wheels riding over uneven tile and it’s fast. You push the door closed and take off down the parking lot, amazed at the sheer number of cars parked in the dark.

 

“You hope you’ll make it home quick enough. There are no noises behind you and you avoid well lit areas like parks and street corners. Your instinct tells you to turn left down this alley way and you do, your instinct tells you to go slow here because of a dog and you do. Finally, it seems almost hours later, you reach a familiar street. Your house is not too far away now.”

 

“Something is odd, you can see clearly now that your shoes are covered in mud and your pants are ripped up a little and your hands are dirty and have nicks in them and you wonder why this is apparent now. You look up and see that you have walked right into the light of a street lamp.

 

“The clicking starts up again, it sound like it’s only a few streets over.

 

“Click . . . click . . . click . . . click-click-clickclickclick-!”

 

“You make a run for it, you can see your house now. It’s so close, your home, your safe haven. So close. You make it across the lawn and nearly trip over the front steps as you clamor up to the door. As quietly as your relief will allow you slip inside, shut and lock the door behind you.

 

“The front room is to your right and you slip up to a window to look outside. Your breathing is erratic and the sound of your panting is loud even to your own ears. You take a cautious peek outside and see nothing in the dark but that beam of light you were in only moments ago.”

 

“There is a sick and quiet little moment when you feel relieved. Nothing is out there, maybe nothing was following you at all, maybe it was your imagination. But then what about the store? Why were you asleep there? And where did those cars come from? Slowly, as your panic ebbs you sink down and press quietly against the wall.”

 

“Click . . . click . . . . cliiiiiiiccck . . . . .”

 

“You hear the sound again, only now it is so close you can imagine whatever it is just slowing down, right next to you. You’re sitting with your back against the space of wall underneath the window and you can hear something scratching the glass above you. It’s a long slow movement, you can tell. Whatever it is, it knows you’re there. You think maybe if you retreat further into the house unseen you can get away. It is at this moment that you remember the lumps on the ground at the store. There had been screaming and running. There were so many of those strange things on the ground, they’d been sticky and squishy. You look at your pants in the light and see that there are in fact dark stains dotting the scabby hem above your shoes.”

 

“Is it blood? In the dark the liquid is nearly black and an uncomfortable feeling swells in your stomach and chest when you realize that during your daydreaming the noises above you have stopped. This quiet isn’t like the last one. You can hear the gentle wind outside and also the sounds of a clock somewhere in your home ticking away the time. As you wait, more sounds develop, your ears adjusting and sharpening to bring out little noises you could never remember hearing before. Moments pass and slowly you shift to kneel beneath the window, your intent to look outside again when something stops you.”

 

“Click”

 

“What was that? Something in your kitchen? What in your house could have made that sound?”

 

“Click . . . click . . . clickclickclick . . .”

 

 

“Faster, that thing from outside, from the store, coming at you in the dark. Your knees slam to the ground as you go to move away and stumble.”

 

“clickclickclickclickclickclickclick”

 

“More noises, faster and faster, scratching at the floor beneath your feet, clicking and clicking and clicking and coming faster and faster until you feel it, right behind you, reaching out to grab at your skin with monstrous fingers to tear you apart but your still running because the instinct to survive has grappled you into submission and you can’t breathe because even a moment’s pause and it will have you.”

 

“Scrrrrraaaaaatch~”

 

“You make it to the hallway, it licking at your heels and bolt into the bathroom. You force the door shut behind you and fumble for the lock, this thing trying to open the door before you do. It makes noises that almost sound like words as you snap the lock shut and it makes a final attempt at the door with a powerful bang that shakes your body and the fixtures on the walls. The clicking continues. Whatever it is is pacing just outside of the door, biding its time, because you’ll have to come out eventually.”

 

“And you? You’re waiting as well, because as the night goes on and that maddening noise eventually stops you don’t leave because you know it’s still out there. You will wait for morning because that’s how it always works, right? Bad things go away during the day and that’s the only time you’ll feel safe enough to leave your temporary haven. You’ll have to; you can’t stay in there forever.”

Author's Note

I would like reviews on the style of writing.

Reviews

[HappyTaylor]

I like this ALOT! It's so strange. I would really like to know how the begining story turned out tho, the playing of the game or whatever. I liked that part, how the story was a game. I did have to read a couple parts a few times to really understand what was going on, but all in all this is amazing. :)

[Rain Kissed Secret]

That is... very odd. I half expected the person to have a wake up and finding themselves with a gun cocked to their head. In any case, the story was great, I don't understand ALL of it, but I'll read it a few more times and I'll try and decipher through it. Good job
Rain

[Michael Frost]

A very different style to say the very least; quite fast paced with a very creepy air to it. Beats the games I played as a kid.

Only comment in terms of the style would be as you progress through the story, your paragraph quotes should not end-quote if the narrator wasn't finished. I only got a little lost with it towards the end but that is besides the point that I liked this a lot. Very good piece!

--Michael Frost