Laughing Eyes

The office was so hot that morning. Libby sat at her monitor gazing
wistfully out of the window at the park over the road. Why did the
management insist on having the damned central heating on so high? It
wasn't a particularly nice day so it would be quiet and cool in the
park at lunchtime. Maybe the odd jogger or old man walking his dog but
not much else in the way of humanity. It was her custom to take
sandwiches and a bottle of diet coke to the park every lunchtime and on
days when the weather refused to permit it, she would return from her
lunch break out of sorts and feeling unrefreshed.

Her bench was empty. Sometimes she didn't mind if there was someone
already there, she had met some really nice people on that wooden seat.
Today though she was glad to have a little bit of peace and quiet. This
was her favourite part of the day; she could just sit and watch the
world go rushing past her. An hour of life speculating rather than life
competing.

As she drew level with the bench and sat down she realised that it
wasn't quite as empty as she at first thought. Somebody had left
something. It was a parcel about a foot square wrapped in brown paper.
Libby stood and looked all around her to see if she could see anybody
leaving the park. It might belong to them and she could do her good
deed for the day in returning it. Right over at the far side of the
park a keeper tended the greens, the faint whirring of his motorised
lawn mower soothed her like the loud ticking of a comforting clock.
Other than the gardener though she seemed to have the park, or as much
as she could see of it to herself.

She picked the parcel up and vague ruminatings of "What if it's a
bomb?" passed through her mind. She almost laughed aloud at herself.
The family always said that she was a cast in the dye drama queen. This
was sleepy little Penton and bomb wielding terrorists didn't seem to
frequent the park very often.

The brown paper parcel was labelled 'To the lady with the laughing
eyes.' Libby went into instant Nancy Drew mode. "Hmm its obviously a
gift to a lady from her admirer. Too big to be an engagement ring,
unless he aimed to disguise the fact, and anyway the label would
suggest that he doesn't know her very well. Or maybe that is his pet
name for her. But then wouldn't it be labelled to my lady with the
laughing eyes?" Libby was enjoying herself; she put the parcel down on
the bench beside her and unwrapped her egg mayonnaise baguette. As she
continued to ponder about the parcel, its contents and more importantly
its owner, she munched contentedly. "Too big to be chocolates, unless
he wanted her to be as big as the side of a house. And assuming she
wasn't fond of cast iron panties then it was too heavy for lingerie. "I
know" she thought, "I bet it's a beautiful hand crafted glass ornament,
one of those with the crystals inserted into it somewhere. Hell, it
must have been expensive to be that size, the prices for those start at
a small house mortgage for just a tiny one." Totally convinced now of
the contents of the brown paper package, Libby worried that she might
have damaged the fine glassware in her examination of the parcel. "No
it's alright, he's obviously a very meticulous man. The parcel was
wrapped to perfection. All the corners and edges carefully tucked away
and the paper smooth and creaseless. He would have taken equal care in
packing it firmly so that no damage could befall it."

Her sandwich was almost finished by the time she came to the burning
question that she had to work out an answer to. "So why did they leave
without the present? Maybe she stood him up and he stalked off in
disgust leaving the parcel for whoever was lucky enough to find it."
This last idea held a note of hope in her mind's voice. "No." She had
to grudgingly admit. "He wouldn't spend all that money just to walk
away and leave it. Maybe they had a huge argument and she ran off in
tears. He of course being the gallant gentleman that he is, went after
her completely forgetting about the parcel. Hmm more likely than the
last idea, but he would have returned for it as soon as she had handed
him back his white handkerchief, now of course slightly the worse for
wear and a bit snotty. No that didn't work either &;#8230; There was
one other possibility that did make perfect sense&;#8230;"

Libby felt slightly embarrassed even thinking this. It was absurd, she
couldn't possibly be right. But it was the only explanation so it must
be. She came to the same bench, in the same park, at the same time,
every day that the weather would allow. What if she had a secret
admirer? Daft as it sounds, that must be it. Someone had been watching
her come to the park every day and had admired her from afar. Well
maybe no that far if he could see her eyes. She didn't know about
'laughing' eyes but she had often been told in the past that she had
attractive eyes. And once some jerk that fancied himself as the next
poet laureate had told her that, she had eyes that would shame the
depths of the deepest sea into drowning itself as a failure.

Now that she knew the parcel was meant for her, for she had talked
herself quite firmly into the fact that it was, she was pink with
excitement. She couldn't wait to open it. "But not here." She told
herself she would just have to contain her impatience until she got
home that evening.

The afternoon had been a nightmare. Twice she had been told off by her
boss for day dreaming when the phone was ringing. The need to tell
someone of her secret parcel had been almost unbearable. The need to
tell Karen her best mate played on her mind all afternoon. And yet
something held her back. Perhaps it was the fact that if she was wrong
about the parcel then she would feel stupid and Kaz would never let her
live it down that she had thought the gift was for her. Or maybe it was
deeper than that. Where Libby was flighty and sometimes a bit
airheaded, Karen was always down to earth and sensible. Libby knew that
Kaz would not see this as something wonderful and romantic. At best she
would see it as sleazy and sinister and at worst she would have Libby
marched down to the police station to hand the parcel in before she
could say, "Brown paper packages tied up with string." So Libby said
nothing and somehow got through the afternoon shift without bursting
from curiosity.

Once through the front door, Libby put the parcel down on the kitchen
work-top. She had waited all day to open it and now that the moment had
arrived she felt a little bit nervous, like a virgin bride at bedtime.
She made a cup of coffee while the parcel seemed to scream at her "Open
me, open me." This could be the defining moment of her future she
wanted it to be perfect. "To the lady with the laughing eyes" How
romantic.

"Well this is it girl you have forfeited the right to answer a question
and its time to open the box." She took parcel and coffee through to
the living room and made herself comfortable on the sofa. With the
parcel on her knee and with slightly trembling hands she undid the
packaging.

Inside was a red box. The type of gift box you buy from extortionately
priced card shops. The box was bright metallic red with a glittery
effect and made of sturdy cardboard with a fitted lid. The lid was
firmly celllotaped to the box and on the top was a large lavender
envelope that read, "Important please do not open the box until you
have read the contents of this envelope."

Sweet words of love from her admirer perhaps. Libby tore the envelope
open and took from inside it several sheets of matching paper. She
unfolded them and began reading the small, neat handwriting.

My dear Lady.

I begin this missal with an apology. Whatever trouble or hardship you
have in your life, believe me, it is nothing to what I am about to lay
upon you. With the exception of one other thing, I am more sorry for
this, than for anything I have ever done in my life to date. I give you
my sincere apology from the bottom of my heart, but I need not ask you
to understand my reasons because you will come to understand them for
yourself only too soon.

I begin with a story of explanation; please good lady bear with me
while I tell my tale, let not impatience overcome you. I give you a
choice to walk away but if you precede the writings then the choice
will be taken from you and you will be the keeper against your
choosing.

Centuries ago in ancient Egypt there was a queen that nobody
acknowledges. Her rein was but a short one and her crimes against
humanity so heinous that she was struck from the history books of the
country. The government of the day decreed that her name and reputation
die with her and that she would never be mentioned after her tomb was
sealed forever.

Her political crimes are not relevant to me, nor indeed to you, what we
are concerned with is the harm that she did her own daughter.

In Egypt the nation are blessed with slightly almond shaped eyes that
are a rich dark brown and are accentuated by long black lashes. The
evil queen had born to her a daughter with sapphire blue eyes. As the
child grew instead of changing hue the child's eyes only intensified in
brilliance. She developed a great and outstanding beauty. Her eyes
became more piercingly blue by the year. Yet her looks were tempered
with a kind spirit and gentle soul. Anyone who came into contact with
the little princess was a slave to her bidding because of her beauty
and kindness. The little one's mother, already embittered by a
blackened heart, grew jealous of her little girl. She knew not how to
love, but her ability for sending out waves of hatred was surpassed by
none. Soon her hatred turned upon her only child.

It was in the little girl's eighth year when she was taken from her bed
at night and dragged into the dessert. She was strapped between two
sacrificial pillars and left to the mercy of the night. Her mother rode
away from the child without a backward glance.

It was some weeks before Sapphire was found by a band of nomad
gypsies. Her eyes were missing when they cut her down and the nomads
assumed that they had been taken by dessert carrion. Indeed they had
but not of the kind they meant. Before she left her child to die the
evil queen took her daughters eyes from their sockets so that God would
not gaze upon their beauty and save the child from death.

The queen kept the eyes, unable to part with them. It's said she was
driven out of her mind because the eyes focus followed her around the
room. No matter where they were the pupils were directed on the evil
queen's face. She tried to get rid of them of course. They were burned,
taken to the sea and cast, weighted from a boat. She even tried
smashing the ornate jar that housed the eyes. The vessel had taken on
the strength of God and could not be smashed. No matter what the queen
did to rid herself of her daughter's eyes, the following morning they
would be back in position beside her. Looking, ever looking, never
wavering in their accusing stare. The queen was driven mad.

After her death the jar was sealed in her gilded tomb with her. The
next morning they appeared on the table beside her sister's bed. The
queen's sister was not a bad person; she was innocent of any crimes
against humanity, and of any crime against her niece. She had tried to
make the queen see sense where the little girl was concerned and loved
her as any aunt would, and yet still the child's curse passed to the
queen's sister.

And so my dear it has passed indiscriminately from year to year,
country to country, woman to woman.

For my own part I became the keeper of Sapphire's eyes some years ago.
I was a taxi driver and the parcel was left on the back seat of my
taxi. I made my choice, as you will make your choice. You see the curse
is never forced upon you, Each and every one of us makes the choice to
take on the responsibility.

So, my friend upon whom I have no axe to grind. I have reached the time
when I can pass the eyes of Sapphire on to someone else. Because you
have already taken the package and opened this far, you are the chosen.
At this point you have two choices.
You can package up the parcel and return it to the bench where you
found it in which case any responsibility will be lifted from your
shoulders &;#8230; or you can open the box to see if this is all
some sick hoax. If you return the box unopened to the park then it will
be returned to me, as it always has been when I have tried to rid
myself of the burden. If you open the box know that from that moment on
you will be the keeper for one generation. Twenty years is a long time
to shoulder the responsibility my dear. Think hard before you go any
further.

I am going to go now and hope that when I awake in the morning the Jar
is not on its usual shelf in my bedroom. Before I do I feel I owe it to
you to explain a little of what life will be like for you from this day
forward.

You may think that you have other choices. But you do not. You came
upon the parcel by chance. Every woman alive has laughing eyes
sometimes. Every woman except the keeper. The eyes not only have an
instinct for self-preservation they have their own warped little sense
of humour. I could not advise that you go to the police with this, or
even tell anyone about it. You will never be believed. Sapphire's
spirit suffered along with her body as she hung between those pillars.
Her sweet nature dried in the shimmering dessert heat and now the
spirit that resides within the floating eyes bears no woman any
mercy.

For instance, how do I know that it is a woman who found the parcel? If
you had been a man, or a child, or had not been alone you would have
failed to notice the box on the seat beside you. For it would not have
been there. I have already explained that the jar can not be lost,
damaged, or done-away with. If you show the jar to any other person all
they will see is a jar filled with water. If you pass on the curse out
of spite or hatred to someone who has wronged you, then the jar will be
returned to you. The jar can be covered I use a piece of heavy velvet,
but it makes no difference because you know that the eyes are beside
you always. That they are watching you always. That they are there,
always. Sometimes in the night, when all around you is quiet, you hear
them. They move in the jar and as the fluid is displaced it splashes
softly beside you. When you make-love you feel them watching you, the
mere scrap of material between you and them is of no consequence, you
know that they see everything you do. You will never be alone again.
Whichever room of whichever house you are in, they are there with you.
Soon you become weary of looking in your bag and finding them there
lurking at the bottom. You get sick of looking up from the bath and
seeing them on the towel shelf. You become resigned to the fact that
they are your nemesis. Eventually I built a small shelf in each room of
my house. They know their place and seem happy to be there. You will
find that they like to be involved in your life. They like being spoken
to.

I have not yet dared write of the most horrible thing of all. Soon you
will have no body in your life. Soon you will be alone. And then
one-day you wake-up and realise that they are probably the only friend
you have. You form an attachment to them. They are your only companion.
Parting with them will be hard. We have been together for so long now.
But you see I realise that I am not getting any younger if I am to have
any life at all I must do this. Not wanting to part with them is the
greatest horror of all.

I am weary now friend. I feel there is nothing more I can tell you. I
have done as I felt duty bound to do and informed you of the choice you
have to make. Go in peace with God my friend because soon even he will
not be able to save you.

Not surprisingly the letter was unsigned.

Libby was trembling. My God there were some sick bastards about. She
had heard about these chain letters that passed between gullible and
foolish people. This was a new one on her though. The instigator had a
vivid imagination that's for sure. Well Libby wasn't about to fall for
any of the Egyptian curse mumbo-jumbo. She had never heard of such
rubbish. She was shaking from head to toe not through fear but through
anger. She was going to take this straight down to the police station.
For a second or two she thought about opening the box first to see if
there was a demand for money to rescue her from the curse of Sapphire's
eyes or something similar, but decided that she may have already ruined
vital evidence by opening the outer packaging. No better to let the
police deal with it. She was curious to see what the sick arseholes had
put in the box, possibly some sheep's eyeballs or something equally
disgusting. Well she wasn't about to be sucked in to their evil
sickness.

She scooped up everything that came with the package and stuffed it
into a carrier bag. Her temper had done little to subside by the time
she faced a very young, bored looking police constable at the reception
desk of the local police station.

Libby rambled for some minutes about eyes and jars and curses, and then
triumphantly opened the carrier bag to produce the evidence to support
her wild accusations of pyramid chain parcels and a gang of
blackmailers who were preying on the innocent public and lone women in
particular.

The carrier bag contained a box of breakfast cereal and two old
newspapers. From the minute she had put the parcel in the carrier bag
to the second she looked inside it at the police station the bag had
never been off her arm. There had been no opportunity for anyone to
tamper with the bag. Libby blustered and said that someone must have
swapped bags on her. She was very lucky that the policeman didn't have
her sectioned under the mental health act. All she received was a stern
lecture about wasting police time. The condescending git suggested she
go home and 'make it up' with her boyfriend. Libby left the station
embarrassed and seething in equal proportions.

When she got home the brown paper was back on the sofa where it had
been unwrapped earlier but the box was sitting in the middle of the
dining room table. Although the door had been securely locked and
nobody could possibly have broken in during her absence, Libby was
convinced that someone was playing a sick joke on her for financial
gain. At least she assumed it was financially motivated.

By this time her temper had way surpassed a simmering seethe, it had
left boiling point far behind. Libby was beyond care or reason.
No-bastard-body was going to frighten or intimidate her in her own
home.

"You think I'm scared huh?" she yelled aloud turning around to shout in
a circle. "I'll show you how scared I am of your pathetic little
hoax."

She picked up the pretty box and tore furiously into the cellotape
holding it closed. A jar was firmly held in place with polystyrene and
tissue paper. She reached in and removed the jar from its
holdings.

And then as any laughter left her eyes forever, she screamed for a very
long time.