"Excuse me, ma'am, but I can't help but feel like there's somethin' that you need prayed for," the graying man said, stepping up in my face only to give me a closer view of his myriads of wrinkles. "No, really, it's nothing," I said, edging away and shaking my head.
"A'ight," he replied, but not in the least looking as if he was satisfied. "But if ya need anyone to talk to, anyone at all, just you know that we're here for ya."
I gave him a nervous, half-hearted smile. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." He nodded, his bobbing head making him look like an over-satisfied bird. It kept bobbing as I walked away, hands in my pockets, eyes downcast. Everyone at these church-sponsored events was overly-friendly. It gave me chills.
I was walking towards the lunch buffet line when I noticed him. A tall and pale skinned man, the dark circles under his eyes made him look much older than he really was. Mid-twenties, I suppose, with black greased hair and high cheekbones. And his eyes-oh, those eyes! Pitch black, not a hint of iris nor white. It was as if I were standing on the very brink of the deepest chasm in the darkest pits of Hell, gazing down upon the darkness that would inevitably swallow me. His dark eyes invoked in me such a feeling of terror and sheer horror, as if he could see into my very soul and point out every evil thing I had ever done. He noticed me staring at him and cast me a cold smile, his brilliantly white teeth flashing in the combination of natural and artificial light. Evil, that was the best way to describe him. Pure, dark, malignant evil. I felt the blood drain from my face and walked away from him as fast as I could, shoving my hands even deeper into my pockets, suppressing a slight shiver despite the mid-seventy degree temperatures.
Even though it had been at least an hour since I had seen the mysterious man, I couldn't quit thinking about him. Or, to be more precise, his eyes and demeanor. He reminded me of a vampire, or perhaps a raven. Dark, foreboding. Brooding, perhaps scheming to make real his malevolent intents. Almost as if it were a daemon in the flesh, awaiting the time to suck the life out of some poor soul. Once again I was forced to keep myself from shivering involuntarily, and I returned to my nigh untouched food, trying to push the thoughts out of my mind.
He was still there, watching me as I left the pavilion. I could feel his cold eyes drilling into my back.
All the way home, I continuously checked behind me as to make sure he wasn't following me. I didn't see anything, but I was unable to shake the unnerving feeling that I was being followed, still watched.
Two days had passed since the meeting at the pavilion, and I had all but entirely forgotten about the man with the black eyes. I had just finished tutoring at the library, and was on my way home. A light breeze blew from the south, bringing in the scent of summer. The sun was shining, and there were almost as many pedestrians out window shopping as there were cars passing by.
Before I crossed the road, I made sure to look both ways. No cars were coming or going, so I stepped off the curb.
When I heard the hot rod's tires squeal around the corner, it was far too late. I looked up just in time to see the grille collide with my legs. I was thrown up onto the hood of the car and into the windshield, which I broke through like plastic wrap. My internal organs were crushed. Every bone I could imagine was broken. Glass stuck out of me like the scales of a fish. They say that when you get hit by a car going 120 miles per hour, you die within a nanosecond. But I know that isn't true. I'd like to say my life flashed before my eyes, but my consciousness was fading too quickly. But I do remember one thing, one sight. Leaning against a streetlight, staring at me with a wolfish grin on his face, was the man with the cold black eyes.