The Red Eye

art by Lanie Myaing, writing by Avery Carlson

Saturday 2348

You’re sitting in an Uber headed to the airport. You just helped your college roommate celebrate their last days of being single—their wedding is coming up in the next month.

You took Friday off to fly in, spent a wild night together, and then a Saturday morning recovering from the festivities and taking a red eye home. You were very excited about seeing your closest friends from over the past few years and as the night progressed you were enveloped by a warm buzz, loosening your inhibitions as you relaxed after your long morning flight. It was sad to leave even though you knew you would see them again soon. You never wanted the night to end—fantasizing past memories, marinating in the warmth of the good old days—but you also knew it would be momentary, you had to return to your real life eventually.

You get out of the car and thank your driver, successfully get through security, carrying-on your one backpack and suitcase. You follow your zone and settle yourself neatly into your seat. Eyes heavy, you tip your head back, leaning up against your neck pillow as you lazily watch the kid to your left start The LEGO Batman Movie to help you drift off to sleep.

Saturday 0540

About six hours later you touchdown, waking up, your body feels fuzzy and heavy with the desire to sleep. In your new timezone, it is about 6am, just in time for you to carry out your travel ritual: going to your favorite local coffee shop and get some reading in before you head back home to unpack the chaos with your best friend over your favorite take out food.

Shit. “Where are my car keys?!” you huff under your breath, feeling a tightness constrict your throat—you feel dizzy, but pass it off as disorientation from joining the waking world and a lack of water from last night. 

“I don’t have time for this” you growl. You know you have to keep moving—you know if you stop to sit down the heaviness will overtake you and your eyes will shut, but your routine is necessary. So you order an Uber. You wait for what feels like hours. People drift past you, some walking so slowly it appears as if they’re moving backwards. Cars rumble past, turning into blurs, the world unfocused around you and your legs start to shake. Checking your phone, you know it's only been 30 minutes. The screen reads: 0630, but you feel a gnawing in your gut—you must be hungry.

You add a stop on your Uber to a quick drive-thru. It takes time away from reading at your coffee shop, but food is more important right now.

0645

Your Uber finally arrives. You hop in and confirm stopping at the drive-thru before your final destination of the coffee shop. Just like the wait for the Uber itself, once you buckle your seatbelt with a definitive click, the drive takes ages. You count the signs along the side of the road, easily hitting 100. You impatiently tap out songs on the car door. Your attention waning, you continue to glance around and are staring out windows, at your driver’s hands, at the red stop lights—like Sauron’s unblinking eye, boring into your soul, daring you to look away. You are snapped out of your staring contest with the burning eye by a gruff: “What’s your order?” Startled by your driver, you realize you’re in the drive-thru. 

You shake your head, order, and glance at your phone: 0700. Only fifteen minutes have passed? Time doesn’t seem to be working right, but you shrug it off thinking you are just in a panic over your car keys which has mixed with your sudden hunger and cold air conditioning which makes you shiver. You figure your time disorientation is due to the sun rising—it's funny how quickly the dark switches to light. It happens gradually, but it feels like it is only in the blink of an eye. You get your food quickly, and you’re on your way to the coffee shop.

0745

“Cody! Hot coffee for ya!” Your head jerks up from your food, mouth a little messy but you wipe it off, stand up, and take your drink. “Isn’t this supposed to be a tea?” you murmur, knowing that strong coffee makes you sick after flights. The barista, hearing your comment, looks back at the receipt and says “Nope, I got it right here for you Cody—coffee, black, just as usual. Tired today?”

You force a weak smile and pick up the steaming cup. The heat makes you help when you pick it up. That’s h-o-t–HOT. You offer another weak smile to the barista and walk back to your seat as she floats away. You sit down in your seat, whump! You land a little heavily, not expecting the chair to be as short as it is.

Did someone switch out my chair? You think. You reach for the remainder of your food—and find pages in your mouth. You’ve grabbed your book. Why is your book out, you’ve only been eating?

Frustrated and confused, you chalk it up to being tired from the red eye—you aren’t used to traveling so late, or through the night. As a certified “morning person” this is a strange new feeling for you as you usually tend to have calm peaceful nights. You didn’t expect to be up so late the night before, and you never do well traveling on little sleep. You take a sip of the coffee—it is still hot, but you’re desperate enough for caffeine to try it. As soon as the liquid hits your throat, you start to warm up to an uncomfortable degree. Your usually relaxing tea experience is uncomfortable, things are out of place and you feel the heat start to get to your head.

You call your best friend and say, “hey, there’s been a slight change of plans. hooow do you feel about making brunch a full on breakfast? i’m pretty hungry and I think we’re due for some maaaajor floor time followed by an early afternoon nap. Would you be able to meet me at my house in half an hour? Bring some pancake mix and eggs. i can’t wait to see you!”

You start to pack up at the coffee shop, throwing out the trash from your food wrappers, sipping your drink as you finish a chapter of your slightly salivated on pages, giving your friend time to meet you at your house. You close the book, pack it back in your bag, sling the bag over your shoulders, and start to walk home—one of the reasons it is your favorite coffee shop is because it is only a ten minute walk from home.

0755

As you leave the shop, you glance across the street as you wait to cross. Red is staring back at you, in the shape of a hand. The hand grows an eye and winks at you. Or is it a blink if it’s just the one eye? You shake your head, and it is a regular red hand again.

I’m just tired. You make another excuse. It was a trick of the light. You did forget your sunglasses on your trip after all.

You make it home and open the door with your spare key, expecting the familiar round knob. However, with your right hand outstretched, your hand slips along a handle.

A handle? Maybe your muscle memory has slipped for a moment, but you had always remembered your front door to have a doorknob. You shake it off as you step into your comforting home. You take a quick scan and see everything in its place, calming you down. To combat the heat from the coffee you shed your layers, heading to your room to put on some light clothes.

0815

A thunderous “WELCOME HOME!” announces your friend’s arrival as they nearly break down the door, stumbling through with arms full of breakfast goodies. Dropping the food on the table meant for your keys your friend walks over to embrace you. The force of the hug makes you stumble back a bit, and you flinch. You are disoriented by the way they entered your home—much more forceful and jarring than usual. You were a little annoyed and hesitant about hugging them, but when it becomes clear that they won’t let go until you hug them back, you melt into their arms for a quick squeeze.

They step back, holding you an arms distance away and quickly check you out. “You look tired, let me fix you some breakfast”.

“Please and thank you!” you say as you help them carry the food into the kitchen.

0830

You’ve turned on some light music—nothing too jarring but nice and relaxing. The morning sun is shining through the stained glass window above your kitchen, projecting images of crawling vines that decorate the outside of the window. You’ve changed into some light clothes letting the morning sun tickle your toes, a comfortable warmth spreading through your legs as the sun continues to move.

Your friend hums along as you close your eyes and let yourself sway a bit to the music, giving into darkness even as the light enters your home. Even though you slept on the plane your bones feel heavy and sluggish, almost like a liquid. You feel warm from the coffee still, but a new sensation chimes in. You think of it to be an oozing—and you realize you’re sliding—no—melting out of your seat!

“wooaaaAAHh! A little help over here?!” Your friend comes in and finds you—a messy puddle—on the floor. You look up at them, your eyes still being able to see even as you are liquidated on the cold floor. Instead of their eyes popping out of their head as you would have expected—a normal reaction when you see someone liquidated on the floor—they sigh and extend a hand. You find you are able to reach up, and you magically pop back into your solid sinews and bones. Your friend wordlessly turns to continue making breakfast and you quickly pat down your body, grounding yourself.

That was weird. The coldness from the floor seeped into your liquid form, and lingers when you return to normal. Your entire body is chilly, making you shiver, but it isn’t quite cold you feel. It is as if you have light pinpricks running along your body.

“Hold down the fort for me, will ya?” you ask, not waiting for a reply as you hurry back to your room for another layer.

0840

You are standing in front of your dresser, but you can’t find your favorite hoodie. You turn to your closet and develop a sense of vertigo. Your body wavers, and your eyes get heavy. You’re getting tired, but your stomach growls, reminding you that you wanted to eat before your nap, so you reach for the closet’s handle.

It is cold, and your hand feels as if it has been dunked into an ice bath. You jerk open the door, desperate to separate your hand from the handle, and your first impression is darkness. You shuffle to the doorframe and are hit with a blast of cold and empty. The air in front of you almost disappears and you see something pass in front of you. Blinking a few times to take in what you’re seeing, you realize your closet is larger than usual. But larger isn’t quite enough to match this feeling. The emptiness is not quite nothing, but rather more of everything…something infinite.

Are those stars?

You’ve obviously never been to space, but before you is this strange vacuum, and you see points of light in the distance. You see some bursts of light, and a strange grinding sound. You squint your eyes, only focused on what you’re seeing.

There’s a strange road that passes in front of you, and you see something moving across it. It is an old, banged up car, but it has a familiar face behind the wheel. It is your friend with your breakfast!

You’re incredibly shaky and the cold has permeated your body. Your friend opens the car door to present a warm stack of pancakes, but you have a dropping sensation in your stomach, like you’re on a roller coaster, and you fall into their arms—the familiarity breaking through the shock and unfreezing you.

0925

You’re in your bed, the covers are unbearably hot and you toss them off. You hear a chewing and you see your friend next to you eating your breakfast in your peripheral vision.

“What....   happened?” you slur.

“Oh you just didn’t seem to be feeling great, so I put your breakfast back downstairs”.

You sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed and begin to shuffle back downstairs.

0930

You enter your kitchen and there are plants—everywhere. You had always had some, but not the small forest that greets you from every crevice and corner. You don’t mind plants and you are too hungry to focus on anything else, so you start devouring a plate of eggs and bacon left on your kitchen table. However, you get a feeling as you eat that the more you continue to eat the emptier you feel.

You begin to feel discomfort, but not necessarily one that comes with hunger… You pick your head up, a prickle on the back of your neck, a warning sign. You feel another wave of heat coming back, and turn to see your friend watching you with a beady eye.

You slowly blink at them, and they just stare back—a big red eye in place of their head.

“Wanna go for a drive?” they ask holding up your car keys.

Almost as if in a trance, you just agree. Following them out to darkness—it’s been a long day, but is it night already? You check your phone which reads 1000.

Nope. I guess my life is just weird now, you reason out.

You get in the car, and your friend slams the door behind you, making you jolt back into your body.

Sunday 0540

You jolt back into your body. You blink rapidly, your eyes darting around. Why did your friend shut the door? They never do that. And what was up with their face—or lack thereof.

You close your eyes and shake your head a bit, a burning sensation behind your eyelids, trying to process the past few—hours? Days? You’re honestly not sure. Things have just been happening to you, but the strangeness has led you to lose all track of time and space.

You look to your left and see a darkness with some light and flashing images. You take note of the fact that you’re in a plane and you’re watching the scroll of movie credits. The kid watching The LEGO Batman Movie unplugs their headset and puts their things away—the plane has landed and you're pulling up to your gate.

It was just a dream. A really crazy, frantic dream. You quickly pat your pockets—car keys are here! You close your eyes in relief, still reeling from the closeness of the dream. However, you shiver a bit as you feel a sense of dread creeping over you. You’re still a little shaky—but not liquid. You are definitely real, confirmed by a quick pinch. But you still feel like you’re being watched. You look back at the screen with the credits and it shines red, the faint outlines of a red iris and steady pupil look back at you and some sweat breaks across your brow.