Notes: Um ya…angst fest for Manfred cause I used to be obsessed with him…introspective piece…no flaming please!)
Disclaimer: If I owned Charlie Bone Manfred would be the main character, and Olivia would be older and his girlfriend…so no, Charlie Bone I do not own (hey that rhymed!)
What Big Eyes You Have
Coal black eyes watch as another set of eyes become blank.
'I can't stand this anymore.' He thinks as he sees another successful hypnotism, keeping himself carefully emotionless to any onlookers.
'They would do anything that I want.' A cruel smile overtakes pale, thin lips. 'If I told them to even eat their own children for breakfast they would without even batting an eyelash.' This thought brought no joy to him.
Nothing brings joy to me. After he is done doing what his father had ordered him to do, Manfred released the spell and swiftly walked away, leaving the person far behind.
Manfred never looks into mirrors.
All he would be able to see would be jet black orbs, burning holes inside his aching sockets, laughing at him as they eat the light.
Never has there been a time that anyone has ever looked at Manfred and not have stared at his eyes. Or avoid them at all costs, depending on if they were in the know.
"What lovely eyes your child has." A shop keeper, smiling a crinkled old smile, remarked once.
It sounded awfully like a fairy-tale he had heard once or twice in his younger years (what big eyes you have, what big teeth you have…all the better to eat you with!) and it made him have the strong urge to punch the little old lady so hard that her great-grandchildren got black eyes (not like his…the natural bruising sort)
His eyes were not the natural bruising sort.
Not in the least.
His eyes were the type that people shied away from in fear, entangled so deep that they had no hopes of getting away.
(what black eyes you have)
Closing his eyes, Manfred pushed them inwards until bright burst of light danced in the black canvas of his eyelids. And for a few minutes he couldn't see.
'Perhaps if I cannot see…then my endowment will vanish.' He thought with a little string of childish hope, which he held onto as if it were a lifeline.
Racing to his bathroom, a little part of him that had long since been forgotten crowed in triumph.
When he had felt his way into the room by touch he went up to the gilded mirror and touched the cloth that he had thrown over it, dashing it away, coughing as some of the collected dust rained down into his throat.
Touching the cold, dusty surface he made a wish, squeezing his eyes tight and hoping that all of those years of missed wishing on a birthday cake (17 years to be exact) would plunge in and somehow grant his wish.
Opening his eyes black swam in his vision, and he believe for a few minutes that he had actually lost all use of his eyes.
Then the light came, accompanied by shapes and colors.
And a pair of horrible black eyes staring at a horrified face, and a terrified gasp.
He could see.
(Foolish, foolish boy) Black ink scribbled on corneas and Manfred felt an utter sense of defeat.
(What big eyes you have)
…
(All the better to eat you with, my dear.)