View Full Version : Short story contest #4 - 'My eyes! My eyes!'

01-09-2003, 08:20:37
Welcome to the fourth CG short story contest!

For this contest, your story should start with the words 'My eyes! My eyes!', but from then on you are free to go wherever your imagination takes you!

Write as much or as little as you like, but please respect the fact that your peers will have to find the time to read your entry

For this one I think we'll trial a two week entry period, so deadline is c. the 14th.

As always, only one entry per poster.

Comments on stories should be posted in a seperate thread, this thread is for STORIES ONLY.

01-09-2003, 16:14:49
"My eyes! My eyes!" screeched Subject #5 from his pod.
"Hmm, indeed" muttered Doctor Twelv distractedly, face bathed in the aquamarine glow of the console.
"You're eyes are furthering the horizon of human achievement young fellow, generations to come shall revere your eyes, you are a hero of science"
Dr Twelve felt it important to encourage his subjects, similar to how some botanists insisted on talking to their plants to help them grow.

The readings were of course eratic, but Dr. Twelv felt sure they were nearing a breakthrough. The ambient-noise levels had not yet reduced significantly to confirm his theories, the xeta-glare was still intolerably high, obscuring the delicate para-wavicles predicted, impossible to get a good reading.

He had hoped the new rendering algorithms would do something about that but nevermind, increasing the charge in the retinal-needles should help clear things up. Perhaps another twentieth of a percent or so...
"Increase power to Number 5 Apparatus" he instructed loadly to one of the technicians working below "Oh point oh seven nine percent".
"Increasing Power to Number 5 Apparatus oh point oh seven nine percent" repeated a technician obediently.

Ironic, thought Dr Twelve as the ragged skrieks of the Subjects(and particularly Subject #5) once more tore themselves into the cavernous spaces of the chamber, ironic that one should require so much energy to acheive the kind of rarified purities they were interested in yeilding here. Nonetheless, the perculiar properties of the human conciousness and the eyeball could not be taken advantage of without the raw-power of the gigawatt micro-collider.

The rows of 'volunteers' from the state penal institution were bolted into the steel recliner seats of the gallery, which were topped with the featurless metallic spheres of the headgear that housed the sensory equipment itself. Each would slam tehtrohetric-particles into the eyes of the subjects at many times c, the only possible way of enabling the human eye (which could detect things as clumbsy and cras as the passage of a subatomic particle boring it's way through space) to detect events of this.... other class.

"Doctor, Subject #9 is approaching threshold, I am detecting persistant coherancy!" yelped a technician suddenly
"What filter!?" demanded Dr Twelv, immediately switching his console to veiw Subject #9s output profile
"Blue Green CTTC Alpha, Retinals 6.7 and 6.8 Doctor"
The Doctor observed the area, and indeed there it was, a standing wave indicating persistant coherancy, floating free in five dimensions, brazen and disrespectful of all the laws of quantum physics.

"Switch the needle to record! I want maximum resolution!" commanded the doctor
"But Doctor, the pain might-"
"Do not inform me of irrelevences! And copy Subject #9s profile to the others, I want this reproduced"
"Doctor!" chirped another technician,voice rising reedily above the tortured squeels of the volunteers "Subject #5 is approaching burnout, I think we will loose him!"
"Another glorious sacrifice in the name of science" dismissed the Doctor.
He switched his console to veiw a model of the 'image' the needles of #9 was picking up now, interfaced as they were with his retinal cells. And there it was... the first ghost-particle ever scientificaly recorded by mankind, matter from the 'Other Side', shimmering gloriously in the white-space of the tehtrohetric. It was a thing the Subject himself would be too busy verbalising distress to notice, but it was beautiful, and how it shone...
And then it was gone.

"What happened, I've lost feed!" shreiked the doctor angrily
"Subject #9 has expired Doctor" informed the technician
"Subject #5 has expired Doctor" informed the second technician.
"Damn!" repeated the Doctor
"Subject #3-"

Two hours later the Doctor stood gazing out across a row of carcasses, heroes of science now consigned to history in the logs of Project Soothsayer/Phoenix/3.

He addressed the technician that hovered in the background, awaiting further instructions
"Order me another batch... forty this time, I think I know what what you did wrong"
"Immediately Doctor!"

The End.

05-09-2003, 00:45:55
“My eyes! My eyes!”

Tracy had been dozing for a while when Kyle’s exclamation rudely bought her to consciousness. “You guys talk such shit sometimes,” she murmured, half to herself. “Most of the time in fact.”

“Yeah, well at least we’re talking sleepy lady. It was your idea to come out here remember. Please at least try and look like you’re having fun.”


She reached for the half-empty Coca-Cola bottle, containing a fine homemade blend of Bacardi, coke, and a little bit of sherry she’d had since Christmas .

“Sit the fuck down and take this” Darren commanded, proffering the joint to Kyle. “I’ve heard this story at least a billion times already”.

“But it was fuckin’ sick man, I nearly puked everywhere!”

“Well what were you doing going into the room anyway? I never understood that.”

Kyle sat down on the log nearest to the fire and took the grizzled roach. He shook his head wistfully. “I don’t know dude, I was fucked. I just remember opening the door and seeing them there!” He visibly shuddered at the memory.

Tracy hated this story. In an attempt to mute the conversation she carefully pulled her cheap nylon jacket up over her head, taking care to avoid catching it on her gold hoop earrings. Nobody enjoyed seeing their parents have sex, she thought, but jeez, Steve could be melodramatic sometimes.

“Night guys” she whispered, adjusting her position, pretending to go back to sleep.

“Night mum” they replied in unison.

Immortal Wombat
09-09-2003, 01:04:52
"My eyes! My eyes!" Maggie yelled. "Mum, tell them to stop trying to steal my eyes!"

"Jack! Jason! Stop stealing your sister's eyes!" Maggie's mother responded automatically now, no longer caring even to look around at her squabbling offspring. She was sick of the bickering, the fighting, the arguments, all the time.

"Mum! They haven't stopped!"

Will. Not. Lose. Temper. Must. Keep. Calm. Speak. Rationally. Have. Control. Over. Self.

"Boys... leave your sister alone!"
"But Mum, we're hungry, she's not even eating her eyes! She's just hiding them and looking at them occasionally!"
"Your sister can do as she likes, no matter how strange it may seem to you. Now be quiet."

There was peace for a few blessed moments. Then Maggie let out an earsplitting girly squawk of annoyance that simultaneously broke the autumn stillness and the last shred of temper that Maggie's mother was hanging on to.

"RIGHT!" Even a motherly instict has limits. Limits that had now been reached. Enough, predictably enough, was enough. "ALL OF YOU! - OUT!" Their mother ignored everything the children said as their responses went from silence, to heartfelt apologies, to disbelief, to begging, to pleading, to astonishment and finally to acceptance.

They left.

Only when they were gone did the mother Raven allow herself to shed a tear for her young that had finally flown the nest.


Maggie sobbed. She wasn't ready to have left home yet. She didn't like the outside world. It was cold, and it was dark, and she was alone. Her brothers had gone off without her, and she had been left alone in the night.

She had had her store of eyeballs, lovingly collected from the carcasses of the rabbits and weasels her mother had taken them out to see sometimes. To show them what food looked like. Maggie remembered always being fascinated by the eyes, the way they glinted in the sun, but with the hollow, vacant glint of eyes that were dead. She had managed to keep them from her brothers somehow. They were the tastiest part apparently. But she had let them have the rest of the carcasses. She just liked the eyes. They had found her hoard of eyes a few days before their expulsion. It had let to new heights of torment and teasing, and a small part of Maggie was glad they had gone away. She disliked her brothers so very much. In the days that had passed, there seemed to be no carrion around. Any that was was old and too decayed to eat, and there was never any eyeballs left. Finally, Maggie had had to resort to eating her precious store.

She perched now in the old alder she had some to call home, with the last two eyeballs nestled in a hollow in the trunk. She was desperately hungry. There had been scant little to eat recently. The heavy rain had washed the landscape clean. Maggie released another sob. There was nothing left. No family, no friends, no more food. She ate the last two eyes, and cried. "My eyes, my eyes..."

12-09-2003, 14:40:35
‘My eyes! My eyes!’
‘Calm down for god’s sake, it’s just soap!’
‘It hurts, mummy! Owwww!’
‘Well take your hands away and let me-‘ she rubbed the towel around his eyes firmly but gently. ‘Is that better?’
He kept his eyes, red with tears and from the towel, tightly shut.
‘A little bit.’
‘What’s all that screaming in there?’ came her husband’s voice from the hall.
‘He got some soap in his eyes.’
‘It’s that bath foam you bought. Stings my eyes as well.’
‘Well you buy the fucking bath foam then’ she said under her breath.
‘Come on then you, out of the bath.’ She said, lifting her son out and placing him on one towel, whilst quickly wrapping him up in another. He stood shivering slightly - the cold winter nights always permeated into the bathroom.
She opened the bathroom door. ‘Can you dry him off? I’m running late,’ She shouted down the hall.
‘Well whose fault is that?’
She sighed. ‘Is that yes or no?’
‘Yes, of course.’ He came out of the bedroom quickly, looking slightly annoyed. ‘Don’t know why he can’t dry himself off.’
‘You know he won’t do it properly. And I’m not taking any time off work to look after him because he’s caught a chill.’ She said, walking past her husband quickly into the bedroom. She quickly found her earrings and affixed them, simultaneously checking her hair in the mirror. Then she sat at the dressing table and carefully applied her make-up: eye shadow, mascara, lip-gloss, a touch of concealer. Lastly, she sat down on the bed and put her shoes on.
She went back to the bathroom and saw the look on her husband’s face as she opened the door. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing! You look great.’ He pulled the towel under which his son had been hiding from over his head. ‘Doesn’t mummy look pretty, Jack?’
‘Yes.’ He said, running up to her and hugging her legs.
‘Ah! Is he dry?’ she said.
‘He’s fine.’ Her husband said.
‘Give mummy a kiss then,’ she said, bending over him and kissing him on the lips.
She stood up and kissed her husband, he tracing his hand down her front and over the small bump of her stomach.
‘Have a nice time,’ he said, smiling, ‘got your phone?’
‘Yes, call me when you put him to bed, ok?’ she said. He nodded.
‘Ok, God I’m late,’ she said walking out of the bathroom. ‘Bye!’ she said finally from the hall, waving to them both.

As she drove through the nighttime streets, lamp lit, orange-glowing, she wondered if her girl friends would notice the bump of her tummy. ‘Or just think I’ve put on weight!’ she said to herself, laughing. She still hadn’t made her mind up whether she would tell them she was pregnant again or not. It seemed insensitive, after what had happened to poor Liz, but she was so excited, she had to tell them. She wondered if she might conspire to tell the others without Liz knowing, and suddenly various scenarios formed in her mind – Liz being in the toilet, or going to fetch more drinks, she telling the others, their excitement and then carefully concealing it from Liz. It didn’t seem right somehow, but it would be just as bad to tell her. She suddenly caught sight of a red light and stopped the car with a screech. She was half way across the crossing. Looking round, she saw to her relief that the road was empty in all directions. She realised her heart was thumping and she subconsciously touched her belly.
‘God, pay attention woman!’ she said, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes.

It all happened just as she had imagined it. The bar was busy, and as Liz got up from their table and went off to get another round of (soft) drinks, she made her move.
‘I’m pregnant.’
There was a collective squeal of surprise and delight that was so loud she wondered if Liz might even hear it across the busy bar.
‘Shhh! I don’t want to tell Liz just yet.’
She could see they all understood, but they were so excited, she began to wonder if she had done the right thing. Although as she then fielded all the questions they bombarded her with she was utterly happy and proud.
Eventually they spotted Liz making her way back through the crowd.
‘God, sorry I was so long, there was an awful queue at the bar.’ She said, setting the drinks tray down on the table. ‘I could hear you lot screeching from over there.’ She laughed.
They looked at each other with guilty smiles.
‘Oh, Sarah’s just been telling us about her latest conquest’ she said and the others quickly got the message, shooting her knowing glances when Liz looked the other way.

Later, she found herself heading in the toilet with Liz. They stared into the bathroom mirror at their own faces and at each other.
‘Liz, I wanted to say something-‘
‘You wanted to ask about how I feel about the baby?’
She was taken aback. How did Liz know?
‘I know you’re all avoiding asking me about it. But I’m dealing with it.’
They stood motionless, still staring at each other’s reflections.
‘Losing my baby was the worst thing that has ever happened to me, the worst thing that has ever happened to George and I.’
She realised that Liz was talking about her own baby, and felt a flutter in her heart.
‘But listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you,’ Liz said, measuring her words carefully. ‘A little while ago, George and I decided to start trying for a baby again. I’m pregnant.’
There was a slight pause and then ‘That- that’s brilliant! Oh I’m so pleased for you!’
The hugged each other tightly and all she could think was that there were two babies pressed against each other as they clasped.
‘Don’t tell the others just yet,’ Liz said, ‘I don’t want to- well, you know’.
‘Yes of course, of course. Wow! I’m so pleased for you!’
‘We’re just trying to keep our feet on the ground about it.’ She said, but she was smiling all the same.
‘Well yes, of course.’
‘I just had to tell someone. I’m sure you understand.’ Liz’s words were like a knife. God, what was she going to do? Should she tell Liz now? God why hadn’t she just told her to begin with?
‘Yes, yes of course.’
‘It’s just, I couldn’t bear it if things, if things, you know, if I miscarried again,’ Liz said, saying the word ‘miscarried’ with great effort.
‘Yes. Well you know if you ever need someone to talk to, Liz.’
‘You’ve always been such a good friend to me.’
They hugged again and they both had tears in their eyes, for different reasons.