Mischad Eyes

MISCHAD EYES
by JACOB R. KANE

I must wonder what it is to be like that. Surely to so free of hate, to
not be
bound by the anxieties and distrust that prevents us, the ordinary,
from
achieving peace. Yes, we, the corrupted, the perverse &; immoral.
Does she
consider herself better, or is she unaware of the state she exists is
that
which I so jealously admire?
All this from the second our eyes met and caught by some ethereal
link. Did
she think similar thoughts to me? Did she wonder what could cause such
moral
decay in a man who should be at peace. I would never know, of that I
was sure,
for I saw just her eyes. If you asked me to describe her hair or her
lips, her
height or shapes, I could no more easily tell you how many leaves would
fall in
New England. It was her eyes. Always her eyes.
I was sure they were carved from, the marble altars of heaven, lit by
the same
purity of a fresh summer glen, blanketed by the sun. As for the blue,
it was a
blue like the clear morning sky, simply so alive, so deep. They were
eyes that
captured you and left you happy to be so. I could have been that
prisoner so
happily, sentenced to a life of enchantment. If I had a soul her gaze
would
certainly be imprinted on it, indelibly, forever.
Yet I was just a Mischad, from a place called Hell, less than demon,
allowed
to remain cast in man`s carnal image, crawling the Earth at my masters
request
to continue the degradation of humanity, simply to save my suffering.
And
she...she with those eyes that I felt could redeem me for my
crimes...surely
she was more than an angel. She was my savior. I had to find her.

I have never felt so scared. In no manner did the stranger threaten me
(and I
do not use that term loosely here - he was certainly strange) , but as
our eyes
met I felt I was looking into something so contrasting to anything I
had ever
encountered before - something lurking with rage, yet pitiful. There
was
desperation &; hurt there, but also anger, frustration...and power.
So many of
this man`s emotions rushed into me, but it was not until I got on the
bus that
I realised what I had just experienced.
I often catch people`s gazes - my own curiosity I suppose - but I
cannot
remember being so interested - and dare I say excited - by a mere
glance of
someone`s eyes. It is as if they have been burnt onto my soul, so
deeply I can
sense it now within my being, an un-natural fire, of that I am sure. As
for
the rest of him however, I cannot remember, though I did see him, of
that I am
sure. His image is in my mind, draped in a heavy curtain, only the
eyes
burning through.
Sitting on this bus, waiting to get home, to be on my own, my thoughts
are
usually filled with mere trivialities such as what to watch tonight,
and what
to cook - the mundane, such is the nature of my life, and I guess of
everyone
around me. But those eyes, I cannot stop thinking about them, like an
itch in
my mind that I cannot begin to scratch or ease. So now I`m left
wondering with
futility what kind of man would have eyes that expressed more suffering
&;
despair, yet a repressed nobility and hope, than I could ever have
expected
from another human. The bus will stop soon, but my thoughts of this man
will
not.

" You alright?"
" Sure. Sorry I`m not much company tonight. My mind is on other
things." He
took another sip from his coffee and looked out into the drizzling,
bustling
winter street, looking at the eyes of each who passed.
" Listen David, tonight isn`t the night to be feeling distracted. I
don`t care
what it is, but let me tell you something - if we don`t get results
tonight,
the boss`ll make us suffer. And you know how he can make us
suffer."
" Marcus...I...," he paused, " Never mind."
" Come on David, tell me. If you`ve got something troubling you,
something
that is going to stop us doing what we were sent here to do, let me
know,
because I don`t want any bullshit you`re going through to stop my
chances of
getting out of my predicament."
" A predicament," David smiled with despair, "Now that is a mellow way
of
describing our situation Marcus."
" Man, you are tetchier than normal today," Marcus exclaimed.
Marcus was dressed in a suit, looking sharp and executive, very out of
place in
this downtown coffee shop, and very contrasting to David, dressed in
blue jeans
and red lumberjack shirt. Their manners were contrasting in much the
same way.
Those that saw them together would wonder what they would have in
common, but
the truth was something few others in the world shared.
" I`m fine Marcus. Guess it`s just the weather getting to me.
Certainly
setting the atmosphere tonight, isn`t it?"
" It`s going to be hell out there," nodded Marcus.
" No. We know where Hell is, and it isn`t here."
Marcus put his arm around David, smiling. " Well my colleague, if we
do what
we were sent here to do, we won`t be going back."
" I can`t go back Marcus."
" That`s why we`re here. That`s why we`re going to get results for
our
boss."
David looked at his watch. He noticed his skin was beginning to glow
an
un-natural red. He looked at Marcus, and his dark-skin was beginning to
get
the look of burning coal.
Marcus took in a deep breath at the feeling washing over him. "Oh wow,
feels
good."
The warmth and power built up in David as well. " It`s time," he said
without
expression but for a nod to Marcus.
" Wow, I like...I like this a lot...This feeling almost makes it
worthwhile."
He rubbed his hands together with eagerness as everyone else in the
coffee shop
carried on, somehow not noticing them. Marcus opened the glass door and
walked
onto the busy pavement, people subconsciously avoiding him. He was
getting
into it. David stepped out soon after to stand next to Marcus, but he
had done
this before, and he dreaded the atrocities they would have to commit
again.

Slipping into her bath, Jennifer let the tension of the day wash away
from her,
along with the dirt of the city. The filth was all around - on the
streets she
walked and the buildings she passed, from the cars that thrived on
throwing
black fumes into her face, not to mention the acid rain that fell
containing so
much sulphur from the processing plants to the east that it would often
sting.
Safety from this tragically decaying metropolis was within the falls of
her
crumbling apartment, heaven was within the bath, cleansing her. It was
as much
a mental process of clearing the stresses and frustrations of her job
as it was
of cleansing her body.
Then, with everything washed away that she could wash away, there was
something
that would not be purified from her. Those eyes, still there, in her
mind.
She did not need to close her eyes to remember what saw. Yet it
still
confounded her, and as much as she tried to forget it, she could not.
Stepping
out of the bath, she looked into the steamed up mirror above the sink.
First
she drew an outline of her gentle face, and then her mouth, then her
delicate
nose. Her long brown hair was all tangled, but still she traced it.
Finally,
she outlined her reflection`s eyes, but there was something not right.
Her
eyes were not blue, they were brown. Blue eyes continued to stare at
her from
the mirror.
Filled with nerves, she began to brush away the steam and hopefully to
brush
away the eyes that continued to stare back. Her hands shaking, she
wiped away
the last of the clouding dew, looked away, then looked back, hoping
that the
eyes would be gone. The eyes staring back in the mirror filled her
with
relief. Now they were her eyes again, but there was fear in her. Had
her eyes
changed, or was she imagining things? Had the eyes she saw earlier
affected
her that much that she was seeing things? They were not the eyes of the
man
from when she caught the bus. These eyes were older, colder, paler, and
she
realized, much more malevolent.

He tried to justify it. There was a reason that he &; Marcus had
just butchered
this boy, the son of a teacher and mechanic, whom they were told would
have
grown up to be a very talented and inspiring musician, bringing
happiness to
people the world over, but in the initial moments after they hit him
with the
car, David could not register it. He never did at first, always filled
with
guilt at his own selfishness, doing anything to escape from his
previous
existence. And now he was a Mischad, a pawn for his boss whom he knew
took
great pleasure in seeing his agent feel the turmoil. David would do
anything
to escape the pain, and that made him the perfect candidate to be a
Mischad.
The blood of the boy did not stick to their clothes. It slipped off
them and
into the pool of blood forming on the gravel in the alley where they
had
stabbed him so simply but brutally.
Marcus brought out a large suitcase from the back of their car.
"What are you doing?" David asked, slowly accepting what he had
done.
" Getting us some points in the boss`s book. We`re going to hide the
body so
the parents think he has run away - y`know, cause more heartache for
them."
" We weren`t asked to do that," David pointed out.
" Exactly. But we`re showing initiative. The boss`ll like that."
" Marcus, you`re not working for a corporation anymore. You`re not a
career
man. You jumped to your death and carried on falling until you ended up
in the
fire and brimstone world we were told was only metaphorical by
modern
theologists. Working for the Devil is not a career move."
" You`re wrong David. It`s the biggest corporation going. If we can`t
get
out, we can get up. Climb up from doing these kind of jobs. We`ll
become the
decision makers."
" We were told that if we do this, we`d be let free from the
suffering."
" And you believed that?"
" Yes. Don`t you?"
" I`d love to, and a small part of me does. But David, there`s a very
big part
of me that doesn`t. I learnt in my life not to trust anyone. Don`t
believe
anything until it has happened."
David looked at Marcus shoving the body into the suitcase. The murder
of an
innocent had happened. And those eyes. Those eyes had happened, still
plaguing
him, but also comforting him. Since becoming a Mischad he had killed
babies,
childrens, mothers and even angels. He had seen many things in his new
role,
but he had never seen anything offer hope and life to him. Now, known
only to
himself, he had, in the eyes of that woman.

Having quickly dried herself down, Jennifer threw on some clothes and
headed
out onto the streets, to get away from whatever was in her apartment.
Even
when she had stopped seeing those malevolent eyes starring at her there
was a
cold, spiky feeling in her apartment, a sensation over her entire body
she
found most unwelcoming.
Hands in pockets, she quickly walked down the Elm-tree lined streets of
the
Milsboro district, her mind muddled, in chaos, but amongst it still
those eyes
remained prominent, one moment a source of intrigue, the next a well of
evil.
And as she continued to walk, head down, the few passers by having to
step out
of her way, other memories of those last few minutes began to appear.
There
was the laughter that had no location, but continued, from all
directions and
none. Then there was the sound of hooves, menacingly behind her on the
wooden
floorboards, and finally the push on her back as she left, and the
door
slamming itself shut behind her.
The memories chilled her deeply, and she walked quickly to somewhere,
anywhere,
away, trying to make sense of something beyond that which she could
understand.

" So, are we free?"
" Do you feel like you are?" Marcus replied. David shook his head. "
The
power is still in me. I think we`ve got something else to do."
" Marcus, I don`t understand. If our boss is so powerful, why does he
need us
to do his work? Why give us a chance to be free?"
" I guess he has no power physically on Earth, which is why he uses us,
to tap
into the Ichor lines and have the power to commit his tasks."
A bolt of energy struck at their feet, sending both Mischad`s flying.
As the
smoke and dirt cleared, a portly man, in his forties, thin on grey
hair,
dressed in long coat, was standing, holding his hat in his hands. "
Just
remember that there are those more powerful than you...more experienced
at
committing his tasks," the man said with a grated voiced.
" Who are you?" demanded Marcus.
" I am Ishnar. I oversee the work of you Mischad`s...and provide
assignments
as well." Ishnar looked in the boot of the car and saw the body,
wrapped up.
" Nice work. Whose idea was it?"
Marcus was quick to proudly claim it. "Mine."
" Decent work. It should cause a bit more suffering."
" That`s the business we`re in Sir," Marcus smiled.
Ishnar helped them both to their feets. He turned to David who appeared
less
than smiling.
" What`s the matter with you?" Ishnar asked grumpily.
" I was told that upon completion of this task, I would be free, yet I
am not,"
David stated.
" That`s because the task is not completed yet. There is still plenty
of times
to make use of the current vibrancy of the Ichor lines, and we intend
to make
full use of it before you are released."
" No," refused David. "I`ve had enough. I`ve completed the task."
" You`ll have the task completed when we tell you you`ve completed the
task,"
Ishnar snapped angrily, " And you will do what we say."
" I can`t," David pleaded.
" If you want to be free, you will."
" I`ve been promised freedom so many times. I don`t want to do this
anymore.
I want my freedom."
" Freedom must be earned," Ishnar stated, "And you have a lot to
earn
considering your immoral life."
Marcus stepped in. " Just tell us what we have to do."
Ishnar paused for a moment, staring at David with an unmoving gaze,
proving his
superiority. " There is a woman who lives in the Milsboro district.
Her
name is Jennifer Livingston. She lives in a decent neighbourhood, and
is a
nice woman. Killing her will cause great fear and distrust amongst that
happy
little community."
" Makes sense to me," Marcus agreed. " Let`s take the bitch out."
" It just doesn`t make sense, all this killing." David paused to
consider his
thoughts. " But I want to be free from all this. If I do this, am I
promised
my freedom?"
" Without a doubt," Ishnar confirmed. " On that you can trust
me."

Taking a seat by herself in an far too bright 'Don`s Donuts'
restaurant,
Jennifer began to comb her hair, warming herself under the electric
heater in
the ceiling. It was now approaching eleven o`clock. She had been
walking
for the past couple of hours, and finally, miles away from home, she
felt safe.
How strange, she thought to herself, that the only way to feel safe is
to be
so far from the place where you should feel most secure.
She had stopped thinking about what had happened. She could think no
more
about it, but the experience still made her shiver - the eyes in the
mirror,
the laugh, the sense of being followed and then being pushed. She
couldn`t go
back tonight, she knew that much. Across the road was a hotel. Spend
the
night there, get up early, go back and get work clothes...quickly. No,
scratch
that, she thought. I`ve got my credit card, I`ll buy some new clothes.
Don`t
want to go back. Not yet, not by myself.
She hadn`t come to a conclusion as to what she had experienced. She
didn`t
want to jump to conclusions like that. She had always thought there
was
something more, but in many ways, it was just a myth to her, a tale
that had
the same reality as believing Santa Claus was real before it became too
obvious
that Santa Claus couldn`t exist. Ghost`s couldn`t exist, could they?
She
should believe, but she didn`t want to. Was it a ghost, a poltergeist,
or
something more? Was it something else? Had it all started with that
man
earlier in the day, with those eyes? Had she made more out of it than
there
was. Certainly she had been going through a long period of being
single...but
why would it manifest itself like this.
The thoughts had begun again, torturing each moment. To the hotel, and
now,
she promised herself. There she would have peace, and sleep and finally
the
chance to clear her mind of what had happened, if her dreams would let
her.

David and Marcus entered the Milsboro apartment silently, as if they
had glided
in. Doors were never locked to them when the Ichor lines were alive.
The
apartment was almost in darkness, lit only by a muted TV in the corner,
in
front of which was a woman asleep on the sofa. David noticed a photo of
the
woman on the mantlepiece, it was definitely her. Holding his hand near
the
photo, he made his palm glow, illuminating the photo. They had been
sent to
kill this woman, but as he looked at the woman with her beaming smile
and then
her eyes...oh, the eyes. David froze instantly. Marcus stopped in his
steps,
shrugging his shoulder as if to say 'What is the problem?'
' I can`t do this,' David replied.
' You have to David...YOU have to,' Marcus answered. ' This woman is
your way
out.'
' You don`t understand,' he whispered, ' I know this woman.'
' I don`t care if you`ve had sexual relations with her - slit her
throat and
set us free,' he hissed angrily. He passed David the knife. David took
it.
' Please don`t make me do this,' David pleaded.
Marcus went over to the woman, still asleep, and put his hand over her
mouth,
and knelt on top of her. She woke up, struggling, but unable to move
under the
powerful Marcus. ' Just cut her throat open David. It`s that easy.
You`ve
done it before.'
' I don`t even know her name.'
' You don`t have to. She`s a piece of meat. She`s your key.'
David thought about it. He thought about how he felt when he saw her
eyes, and
then he remembered the unbelievable agony he went through before he
agreed to
become a Mischad. He couldn`t return to that. Tenatively, he took
steps
towards her, ready to slice. And then their eyes met. He froze, filled
with
the same feelings. Despite the terror in this woman`s eyes, there was
still
the beauty, the angelic...
' What are you waiting for?' yelled Marcus, 'Cut the bitch up.'
With a violent stab of the knife, David plunged the knife into the back
of
Marcus. In an instant, he disappeared. The woman began to scream
and
scream and scream. Using his power, David erected a sound barrier so no
one
else could hear.
' Hey, it`s alright,' he said, holding her, ' I`m not going to let
anyone hurt
you. Do you recognise me?'
She nodded.
' What`s your name?'
' Jennifer,' she whispered, apparently calm and relieved just in his
presence.
' Why did you save me?'
' Because I would rather suffer an eternity in Hell that see anything
bad
happen to you,' he replied softly.
' How lovely,' she said, her voice changing, became more like a roaring
wind, '
And how fortunate, for that is exactly what you will have...an eternity
in
Hell.'
The apartment melted and molded around him, changing into the
painful
surroundings of the underworld he had been at the mercy of for
years,
confronted by the Devil, his chief tormentor. Immediately he was in
chains,
hot lava being poured onto his legs, but unable to scream, his mouth
filled
with glue.
' There was never any escape,' the hoofed monster thundered, ' Every
atrocity
you committed just made you more mine, and added to the torture of your
mind
and soul. And as for the woman, she will have something to remember you
by.'
The glue in his mouth began to reach down his throat and into every
path of his
body, whilst the lava continued to pour, continued to burn, but he
would never
be allowed 'death', never again allowed escape from the punishment for
his
sins, in a world that encouraged and punished sin. He wanted to cry
with
despair, with pain. There had never been hope, nor would there be
again.

As she lay down on the bed, Jennifer suddenly felt a rush of peace over
her, as
if all that had troubled her had gone. She settled in to the fresh bed
to have
what she expected to be a most refreshing rest. Still, in her mind,
there was
the image of the eyes of the man, no longer mixed with the other eyes
she saw.
She wondered if she would ever see them again. Stretching out, she
felt
something round and wet on the other pillow, which weren`t there
before. They
had the touch of soft boiled eggs. She opened her eyes and screamed,
and did
not stop. There, on her pillow, were the man`s eyes, starring back.