A/N: This story was written in one sitting during a classroom break period, in Trigonometry I believe. The class period was about 4 hours long, so to break up tension we frequently got 15 minute breaks every hour and a half. This left plenty of time to switch my brain gears from mathematics to writer's mode, spurred on by the need to create. However, it didn't get typed until 5 AM on a muggy August morning after (get this) having gone to a baseball game the night prior. I was exhausted while typing this out! But regardless, here it is – another Creepypasta.

Eyes don't always tell the truth of matters, now do they? In fact, they're easily fooled by optical illusions and other such trickery. If your vision's worse than 20/20, as is the case with me, then you know how frustrating it can be when your glasses or contacts aren't in. Words look like mush, the world is covered in a blur filter, and people's faces look like blank, Slenderman-like slates of flesh, with dark spots for the eyes and maybe a lighter splotch for a mouth. It's frustrating, jarring, and more than a bit creepy, seeing a person reduced to a faceless nobody. Cue this tale, inspired by my own frustration with my glasses and maybe just a bit too much Creepypasta and Twilight Zone. In true Creepypasta fashion, it's short, sweet, to the point, and lets the implications behind the horror get you rather than outright saying anything. After all… how can you know if your eyes see the truth? And what if, just what if… your eyes aren't lying when they see something that apparently makes no sense, or is attributed to shoddy eyesight?


God damn it, I've dropped my glasses again! And right on the concrete too, lens down. I heard them clatter… The lenses are probably all scratched now, and I don't have time to fix them before I go to meet James for our date. We'd only met just a few weeks ago and I'm already nervous and fidgety for no reason, not to mention my glasses are probably ruined.

So much for a decent date night.

At least nobody's around to see what happened. That would have made it even worse, between my shyness and my already jittery nerves. I'm so terribly nearsighted, though, that it wouldn't matter even if they had. I wouldn't have seen their faces anyway; they'd all be a bunch of unfocused blurs, their features an obscure haze to my eyes.

I kneel to the ground, hands fumbling as they search for my missing lenses. They're here somewhere, damn it, I know they are! They have to be… I mean, they couldn't have gotten that far, I was just cleaning them before I dropped them, and they fell straight onto the concrete from my ha-

"Excuse me, sir?"

I jump a bit and look up at the unfocused image of two jean-clad legs, attached to bright white tennis shoes, Nikes by the looks of them. Oh great. Just fucking great, Jeremy. You've gone and embarrassed yourself again.

"Sorry," I apologize meekly, stumbling to my feet and saying nothing more. My poorly focused eyes glanced to the man. He's a blurry mess, his dark eyes little more than two charcoal smudges on his pale face and his nose barely existent. There's something incredibly eerie about the way people look when you can't see them properly, whether that be from a distance or up close without your glasses on. They look… odd, distorted, as if someone tried to erase their faces with a shitty eraser, and failed halfway through finishing the job. It's like their identity has been removed, blurred by a censor box into nothingness to make them completely anonymous…

His pink smudge of a mouth opens to speak.

"Don't be," he says, his voice toneless and unreadable. "I just happened to be walking through and I found a pair of glasses on the ground over there. They wouldn't happen to be yours, would they?"

"Yes, actually," I respond, blinking in confusion. How had he known? I'm the only person on the path that I've seen, and I haven't noticed anyone approaching from further down the pathway in either direction. Then again, it's possible that my glasses bounced some when they fell, landing further away than I had thought…

"Thank you," I say, retrieving the glasses from his hands. They're good, strong hands, but damn, are they cold!

A wide, pink smudge of a smile forms on the man's face, saying nothing as I take the glasses from his hand, then turn to walk away. Something about that blurry smile… bothers me. I can't place why, but it feels off, wrong, as if that man knows something I don't…

I shake the feeling off, polishing my glasses as best I can, then place them on my face.

James' startled, rugged face is directly in front of me, and he looks worried.

"James!" I exclaim, jolting back in startled shock. "God, don't do that to me! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

James gives no response, instead looking nervously at the man behind me. His dark face grows even more concerned-looking as he grabs me, pulling me to him tightly before starting to walk off.

"James, what's wrong? You're hurting me! James!"

"We're going," he states, his tone serious as the grave. His grasp does not yield, nor does he stop walking.

"But James –"

"We're. Going. Jeremy. Now."

There's no arguing with a six-foot-four Marine, especially when he gets that edge to his voice. I say nothing, allowing him to pull me out of the park and to the tennis court, where finally his grasp slackens and then releases.

I look up to him in concern. His hands are shaking as they grasp my shoulders, and he looks horribly shaken…

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm fine," I reply, confused.

"Oh, thank God." He sighs, anxiety escaping with his held breath. "I'm so, so sorry I scared you like that, Jer, but I had to get you off that trail as soon as possible."

"What? Why?" I exclaim, pulling away from him. "What in the hell would possess you to pull me away from someone who was helping me find my glasses? That guy found them after I dropped them, and then you showed up and scared the shit out of me…"

"You don't understand, Jeremy, that man…"

"What about him? He gave me my glasses back, that's all."

James looks me over grimly, his face a mask of concern and fear. He doesn't want to tell me something, I can see that plainly. Then, after a moment, he sighs heavily, as if preparing to break a harsh truth to me.

"Jeremy… I know you're new around here, and don't know about this, but… Five years ago, a man disappeared in this park. He was murdered, brutally stabbed to death. When they found the body, both of his eyes were missing, his fingertips were gone, his teeth had all been pulled out, and his lips had been torn off his face. It was like someone tried to erase his identity, or blur it out, so that the police couldn't easily identify the body. The monster that did that to him wanted him to die alone and unrecognized. The only way the man could be identified was by a combo of DNA and his glasses prescription. They matched it to his health records based on the glasses found at the scene."

"That's awful, but what does it have to do with - ?"

"Let me finish, Jer, please. The killer apparently lured him off the trail when he dropped his glasses… but they never found the actual killer. Last they saw of him, he had a knife, and he was wearing a pair of Jeans and some white Nikes. The killings still happen every year, so some people think the killer mutilated and blinded himself, just like he did to the bodies, in order to escape unscathed. And that man you were talking to, Jeremy? That man's lips were missing, and he didn't have any eyes."