Anatomy of the Delightfully Disturbed

The Lady and the Blue Eyes

I came across an advertisement while sipping a cup of joe; a secretary request for the very blessed Mrs. Undertow. Free room and board stated the ad, all the food you could eat, handsome pay, no delay, an urgency to meet. Yet in the print below so haphazardly miscue where the only qualifications listed....to have eyes of blue.

Sure it seemed a tad bit off and strange to enquire, but having no home and no income, my situation was dire. So I called the Mrs. Undertow to verify the position and if God be kind, keep me in mind, to give off a decent disposition. Such an awkward conversation ensued that I nearly refused the work, but I held on true and pushed on through trying not to be a jerk.

"Do you believe in ghosts, sir," whispered the uncanny Undertow. "Do you believe in evil and its efforts to bring us woe?

"Of course," I said mockingly, lying through a laugh. "I am a believer, yet never been a seer. Don't count me as daft."

"And, sir, I care to ask, but are you alone? No family, no lover, no one to atone? Just you and you I pray be all that reside, if so happens you so happen to disappear or die?"

I found my words in hesitation, lost between a breath and a blink. What questions, what confessions, I needed to rethink. But as I came to say good day and decline my approach, the lady offered a final say that gave me reproach.

"I am but an old woman too feeble and too frail. I need only sweet company, and I will pay handsomely well. I promise you, sir, if you prove your worth to me, I will leave all my assets to you if you agree."

I agreed to the conditions and instantly the job was mine. I hung up the phone agast believing I had swindled the old swine. Though some dark cloud shifted and in my mind it grew....for not once did she ask my name or if I had eyes of blue.

The house stood on a pleasant avenue away from all the crowds, the hustle and bustle did little to rustle this part of the town. I took a step past the gate and felt an unpleasant chill, as though a demon had come to take and push me against my will. With windows painted black where in places the shutters lacked, an observer might lose track of any occupant that occupied this sublime shack.

The bushes slightly overgrown and vines greatly overthrown climbed the walls and hung from the sides hiding what color the home once called its pride. Now wearily I approached the door and beat the old knocker. Bangs echoed through the structure beaconing the old gawker. A tapping of feet, then the sliding of shoes, I was ready to meet this Undertow, this reclusive shrew.

"Hello," came a voice like the one on the phone, "are you my new secretary who will call this place your home?"

"Aye, madame," I said sharp and quick. "I phoned yesterday. It's Rick. Rick Standler. The purveyor of elderly assistance. I arrive very credited with a history of consistence."

"Come in, good sir, and bring your wares. A room is prepared for you just up the stairs."

The door opened wide and there stood my employer. Dressed in white with frills on her wrists, she hunched over in the foyer holding an exceedingly long list.

"Once you get acquainted, join me in the den, and we will go over your employment and what I expect from then."

As I entered the home I noticed a common theme, a certain decor that would drive many to the door, one that might make an unsuspecting visitor scream. Eyes, blue eyes, made of glass, dangling, strangling every ounce of space. A hundred watchful glares, haunting stares, looking up from every place.

"The Evil Eye, a circle of blue, keeps away the wickedness thrust upon you. Call me superstitious or a tad bit insane, but I believe the eyes keep these old bones from unnecessary pain."