The room I had as a kid growing up in old Syracuse was one of those classic creepy feeling rooms that the majority of kids imagined belonging in horror movies and not actually existing in real life. It had dark shadows in all the wrong places and weird architectural choices most of those older suburban houses seemed to have; unneeded nooks and crannies abound. And of course, I got stuck in there for a number of my formative years. That could probably explain a lot, come to think of it.
I wouldn’t say that anything specifically terrifying ever happened during the little time I ever spent in my room. Then again, most of the time I was even in there was when I was forcing myself to sleep or to change for school in the morning. I kept all my toys in the family room, and most of my clothes in the hall closet just to avoid having to be in that room by myself.
Then again, some people might consider a bunch of disembodied blinking eyes rather terrifying. Did I forget to mention that? Sorry, that’s probably what I should have led off with, right? I’ve just always considered that incident to be the one thing never to mention if I want to seem sane to others. But now that I’ve brought it up, I might as well tell the story of those wretched eyes. As crazy as it might make me sound.
It was Super Bowl night, 1990 and I was seven years old. And a bit of a major brat, if I do say so myself. My dad had a bunch of his work friends over for the big game, and a lot of them had kids and wives they brought with them. I never liked sharing things back then, or even now, and hated the idea of a bunch of other kids playing with my things or having any sort of fun in MY house. Needless to say, it was only about thirty minutes before I was in trouble for pulling another girls hair and was sent to my room early right after dinner and before the game ever started.
With how much I hated that bedroom, you’d think I would have tried a bit harder to not always end up being sent there early. But I was stubborn and once again found myself trying to force a slumber well before I was tired. Something was different this night though, because I actually managed to fall asleep rather quickly, even though I was protesting my grounding up to the last possible minute.
What felt like hours but was probably only a couple passed as I slept, and it was only ever interrupted briefly by the sound of people cheering or booing downstairs as the game played out. During one of these booming distractions to my sleep, I remember grunting and turning over on my side to face the wall. For some reason, I also opened my eyes and was astonished to see that my entire wall was covered in what looked like different sized human and animal eyes. They darted about the room, blinked open and closed, and gave off an odd glow.
I was frozen with fear as those eyes kept their focus on my. I was in a panic and didn’t know what to do; I wasn’t even sure it was real. It felt real, but who could really say in a moment of incredible oddness like that? Luckily, I never had to find out as the door to my room swung open and my dad burst in full of excitement that the Giants had won. The sudden interruption seemed to spook the eyes on the wall away, and I did my best to forget about them. Though I’m always half expecting to turning over at night and seeing them again someday. Ever get that feeling that something or someone is watching you?