Thankful for any excuse to delay the painful conversation Jane answered the door, expecting it to be a begger pleading for any amount extra foodtheg y could spare. To her surprise the man on the other side of the rotting slab of wood was not a begger. He was well kept. He had slicked back black hair, fine black clothing with golden embellishments and contrasting the darkness; pale, pastey skin. But his most striking feature by far were his eyes. They were like two pools of darkness, the irises and the pupils were indistinguishable from each other. Suddenly a cloth was held to her mouth, Jane tried to scream, but no sound came out, her vision was blurring, it was becoming darker. The only thing she could make was his eyes. It was as if the darkness in Janes vision was coming from them. As soon as the thought hit her everything went pitch black. She could feel her lims slowly being drained of there strength. Thoughts slipped away from Jane like raindrops on a leaf until only one thought remained: "His eyes". But soon even that was stolen from her mind, and Jane slumped to the floor, unconscious.
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Penana
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