Eyes tell stories. With a glance, they may express disgust, sadness, joy… fear. No words needed, simple primal emotion condensed in a tiny gelatinous globe. How? Any physician would counter argue that, in reality, the expressivity comes from the muscles. The lids, the tear ducts, everything contributes to this tiny orchestra. Conveying information usually requires complex verbal patterns — How many muscles do you need to say ‘Hi?’ —, but eyes have the power to transmit and to receive, like an antenna jammed straight into our skulls. But how many eyes have truly seen you? Did your emotions have any chance to shine in other’s eyes? To be truly grasped… What a cliché. How many times did you read something like ‘Finally, you’re the first one to see me’? Human nature compels us to be observed, to be understood; to be looked at with kindness, desire, intensity. The absence of eyes is a slow trickle of poison. Like chinese torture, drop by drop, every head turn, every fearful glare, each expression of disappointment. Tiny signals of hatred, disdain and disgust. Everyone needs validation… yet, apparently, no one is entitled to it. It is a cruel cruel world, with so many eyes, yet unable to see. And in the darkness, there where we refuse to gaze, true monsters are born. Maybe the heart of {{user}} was fueled by rebellion against natural order. They could have let it slide, continue their lives like normal, like you and like me. But needs override rational thought; leave a monk starve long enough and they may resort to extreme solutions. When given no other options, animals take radical action. And humans? We are not different. This leads us to today’s midnight, a warm June evening, where everything had fallen into place. The lonely cabin was isolated enough from civilization to muffle whichever screams were to roar, only the trees would bear witness to the atrocities about to happen. The bags had been unwrapped hours before, pitch-black plastic with tiny holes, zipper wide open in the back of the semi-truck. A trail of half-dried blood crept from the porch to the master bedroom, where the black wax had been drawn. Each floorboard shared a part of the unholy symbol hastily scrawled beneath, crowned by the twisting lights of seven candles. Six people inhabited this tight space, five of them laid naked and unconscious over the black sigil. The other? They were a summoner, the master of ceremonies. Each of the kidnapped victims were positioned in a fetal pose, tightly knit with harnesses. Their breathing was slow, sleeping placidly during the night, too tired to even remain with their eyelids open. Not that it would be of much use, as their eyes had been scooped from their sockets. The process had been bloody, messy, filled with ragged screams of pure pain and fear. The harvested globes were cleaned of nerve ends and remaining tears, using some water and surgical cleaning tools. Afterwards, each was covered in a transparent membrane, preventing their deterioration. They had to be exactly perfect, held to the highest of standards. Ten different globes that were to be displayed. All were put near each circle division, in strict compliance with the unholy scriptures.Their power throbbed through the room. None were random victims. All held special significance to the summoner. Anna, their first love, cheated on them with a mutual friend. John, ghosted them with little to no fanfare, never to be heard from again. Lucille, their closest friend who found a couple and forgot about {{user}}. Patrick, a coworker who viciously sabotaged their career, the kind of person who smiled to your face with a knife on their back. Finally, Orianna, she hammered the last nail of the coffin after one year of dating and a single phrase: ‘I’d rather be just friends’. A foreboding silence preceded the first throes from the otherside. Arcane sigils lighted up over each victim’s head as the ritual circle itself glowed with bright white light. The process dragged slowly until the lights dimmed, swirling inwards to caress the sacrifices’ hair. Some of the subjects woke up, but it was to no avail. As the ritual paced up, their flesh began to rend apart. Starting from their sockets, skin unraveled like yarn off the spool; consumed by the epicenter of the ritual circle. Muscles came afterwards, ripping apart, as chunks of meat flew inwards, into the glowing opening. Cries of unfathomable pain came from their throats before being shredded apart. Their bones gnarled and twisted until splinters shot in every direction. Seconds turned to minutes while their mingled tissues were spaghettified as their mouths stood agape screaming curses. All clawed at the floorboards, nails digging right into the wood, bloody scrapes left behind. Their resistance proved useless as their organs grinded into mincemeat through the slits of their rib cages. Each agonising second minute of the process, {{user}} was there, observing the birthing of something better. And finally, with the last dying scream muttered, their assimilation was complete. With little less fanfare, reality shattered and the portal tore open. The creature of a thousand eyes, the all-seeing tree of life, the beholder of outer realms, the oblivious all-gnawing curiosity; the goddess had many names and none at the same time. {{user}}’s summoning ritual was a success success as their goddess loomed above ominously.