Eyeless Jack Rewrite

## Eyeless Jack Rewrite by an0ther1

(Eyeless Jack was created by Azelf5000.)

I was never a superstitious person. I didn’t believe in black cats, bad luck, ghosts, or any of that paranormal stuff. But I do now, and I can tell you, it’s because of one very good reason… and I call him Jack.

I had a brother named Ed, who was several years older than me and lived on his own. My parents planned on moving due to my father’s new job, so I asked them if I could live with Ed until I finished up school. They decided it was fine, and my brother was cool with it because we didn’t get to see each other much. The first week flew by. I went to school, football practice, did homework, and hung out with Ed. Then one night, I heard a rustling just outside my window. Too tired to get up and investigate, I assumed it was some kind of animal and went back to sleep. My brother lives close to the woods, so I figured this would be a logical explanation. When I mentioned it to him the next day, he agreed. “Raccoons come by a lot to scavenge for food. Don’t worry about it, Mitch,” he told me. I then went about my day and thought nothing of it again.

That night, I heard a noise again. This time, I heard a struggle by my window. I stayed in bed until I heard the faint screeching of my window opening, and a thump of something landing in my room. At this point I bolted upright, reaching for my pocket knife I kept in the drawer of my bedside table. Upon surveying the room, however, I found nothing. I tossed and turned the rest of the night, eventually falling into a restless sleep. I got up early that morning and went to the bathroom. I felt an ache in my side, and my cheek stung. When I looked in the mirror, there was a gash on the left side of my face, and my side had a long incision that had been sewn up a few hours ago. I rushed into my brother’s room the best I could with my injuries and shook him awake. As soon as he cracked his eyes open, he zeroed in on my face and shot up. “What the fuck happened to you Mitch?” he demanded.

“I have no idea.”

My brother got a scared look in his eye, and without another word he got up and dressed. He then drove me to the doctor. When we got to the hospital, I was checked over, and a series of tests were done. The doctor cleaned and sewed up my face and gave me a prescription for some painkillers. My brother and I filed a report to the police, but they had little to investigate. A few days later, the doctor called with the test results. “I’m sorry Mitch. I really don’t know how to break the news to you…this hasn’t really happened before, but…uh…your left kidney is gone. It’s been stolen. Whoever did this really knew what they were doing. Have you told the police yet?” I assured him we had filed a report, and that we would share this new information with them. I couldn’t believe it. My kidney was just…gone. I went to bed that night scared and unsure. Who would do this? Why? How? I fell into a fitful sleep.

Around midnight, I woke to a truly horrifying sight. Above my head, someone was leaning over me. He…it…wore a black hoodie. His face was covered with a dark blue mask. There was no nose or mouth, only two, huge, empty eye sockets. From these sockets dripped a black, inky substance, like thick tears. Frozen in shock, the only thing I thought was, “evidence.” So, I snagged my phone off the table and snapped a picture. The flash seemed to anger the creature, and he jumped on me, ripping at my chest. We struggled, and I eventually kicked the thing in the face, giving me just enough time to escape. I ran out of the house to the nearest bus stop. When I realized I wasn’t being followed, I flopped down on the bench and passed out.

When I woke up, I found myself in the hospital. The doctor from before, Dr. Samuels, was standing over me checking my vitals. “Mitch, you’re awake. Uh, I’m not sure what happened to you, but someone found you all bloody on the bench at the bus stop and called the police. They brought you to the hospital. You’re okay except for some cuts and bruises. But your house… it was a mess­” Before the doctor could say more, a police officer came in.

"Son, you’re going to have to come with me as soon as possible.”

The doctor looked at me sympathetically.

“Let me get your clothes and fill out a prescription for some more pain pills.” He turned to the officer. “Then he should be good to go.”

A few minutes later I was in the passenger side of a police car, wearing my clothes from before (cleaned and sewn up), and clutching a bottle of pills. The officer got in the other side, turned, and addressed me. “When we got the call and investigated, we recognized you and knew something was going on at your house. The paramedic transferred you to the hospital while we went and checked your residence. What we found…it was horrifying. The place was torn apart. It looked like whatever did this was…extremely angry. And the victim. He was a gruesome sight to behold. Son, we are pretty sure he was your brother. But we need you to identify him for us, to be sure. Can you do that?”

In all honesty, I didn’t think I could. But I had to. How else would we know for sure it was Ed? So, I agreed. When I entered my brother’s home, it was just as the police officer described. That thing was furious that I had gotten away. I looked in my room and saw my cell.

“Can I take that now?” I asked.

“I don’t see why not. Now come. He’s in here.”

The officer led me to my brother’s office. Papers were scattered everywhere from an evident struggle. Books were lying on the floor like they had been tossed. His desk chair was upturned, and his laptop smashed. The window was halfway open, and below it… oh goodness. His torso was ripped open, his innards all spilling out. He had slashes all over his arms and legs and face… “That’s him alright.” I then turned away and cried into my arm. He was so close to escaping. All he needed to do was open the window a little farther and jump out. That was it. I wiped my eyes, and then something caught my eye. It was almost completely under my brother’s desk. It was a half-eaten kidney, covered in a black inky substance. I leaned over and vomited. The officer quickly led me out of the room.

“Don’t worry about it, son. Two of the new technicians did that as well. Now, I called your parents and let them know what happened. They’re gonna pick you up in a little bit. The guy responsible for this hasn’t been caught yet, but we will get him. Now, we just need your statement…”

I filled out the necessary paperwork and went home with my parents. The funeral for Ed was a closed casket ceremony, of course. I went on with life, hard as it was. I jumped at every little noise. My therapist says I have PTSD. Sometimes I spot splotches of inky substance around me. I did research on what my attacker could possibly be and came across the legend of a monster named Eyeless Jack. My therapist tells me that people give scary things harmless names to help them get over the fear.

It hasn't worked for *me* yet.

Oh, and the picture on my phone? It’s just a black screen, despite the flash. I’ve tried every picture restoration program out there. No one is to see Jack. One thing is always on my mind now…when will he come back for me?