The עין הרע

    It was a dark and stormy night. Oliver shivered as the strong wind blew through him. He watched the lightning strike the face of the sea, and heard the deafening noise of the thunder, and smelled the metallic odour of blood. The viscous, crimson liquid coated his shirt, his knife, and the fresh cadaver that was once his friend. He felt his control of his body return as his muscles slowly slackened from exhaustion and the grin faded from his face as he pulled his face and tongue from the corpse’s wound.

        As tears welled in his eyes, he felt the sting from his mutilated left eye. The tears burned against cuts which made up that blasphemous symbol. The rune was a truly ghastly sight to greet the Polizei. As they arrested Oliver, he made no resistance. Instead, he babbled and screamed.

    “Fools!” he cried “You know not what your mere gaze upon my visage has inflicted upon you! You know not who, nay, what has taken the life of my friend, albeit, with with my hands. You know not its vast power and boundless evil, but shall soon! Weep, for your fate is sealed by the עין הרע, whose cruel tortures will make you wish for an eternity in hell instead!”

 

 

         Judge Joseph Schmidt sat in his office, deep in thought, at his desk. He hadn’t had the foggiest idea the sort of case he would be attending, but this was a trial that intrigued him to no end. Oliver was clearly not well, but there was something about him, his ranting, his denial, and his begs for death that struck a nerve deep within Joseph. It was for this reason that he went to visit the defendant, and to investigate his mad thoughts.

      The prison was anything but well maintained. Despite all the grandeur it used to possess, it was now crumbling and decaying. The rain was certainly not helping the image as it made its journey from the heavens to the earth. The judge’s arrival was, appropriately enough, accompanied by a flash of lightning that illuminated Oliver’s cell.

    “Oliver Muller, I have some questions that I would like to ask you.” Joseph said. He expected a scream of terror in response, but Oliver didn’t move a muscle or turn from the cell window through which he gazed.

         “Ask what you want.” Oliver dejectedly replied.

      Taken aback by this reaction, Schmidt made his first inquiry.

 “Who, on the night of the event, committed the murder?”

     “A creature, more horrific than you know, is what forced me to kill Abelard.”

        “What was it, though?” pushed Schmidt, and immediately, Oliver’s voice became higher and faster, and his body sweatier and trembling.

   “How can I know? How could anyone know? It is more malevolent, more terrible than you could ever imagine! We know it as the עין הרע, but its true name is written upon my face!” Oliver then turned to the judge, revealing the sign of the עין הרע over his eye. Calming himself, he continued. “It came when Abelard and I found the sign in old texts, and we wrote the עין הרע’s name, and now it will come to all who’ve seen the sign on my face. There is no point in trying to stop it from harming anyone anymore, for it can force my hand from the sigil, and me to turn to face anyone.”. He sighed.

       “Why did it want to kill your friend?” Schidt asked, but Oliver was silent. “What does it want?” Still, there was no answer. Schmidt was about to ask another question when he heard a scream from the hallway. He ran over, and was horrified by the sight of another prisoner banging his head against the wall, his blood escaping his cracked skull and dripping down his expressionless face. He called for the guards, but they, too, stood completely unmoving, before each of them raised a gun to their head and fired. Schmidt watched in horror as all of the prisoners across from Oliver began to bang their heads on the wall, then the horror intensified when Schidt had a realization. Schmidt couldn’t move. As he struggled to move, to scream, Oliver walked to the bars, and grinned laughing. It was in that eyelike symbol that Joseph now felt the palpable evil, the cruelty which had come to inhabit the bodies of many.

     Schmidt went to a guard’s body and picked it up. He fought, he resisted. He tried to do everything in his power to fight against the force that lay within his hand, but he was helpless as the trigger pulled, and the bullet pierced his skull.

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