Last Drop on Her Green Eye
By Marzia Afrin Seemat
Discussed: violence & death
A fun camping night ended up as the worst night for all and last night for one.
My heart stopped knocking on my chest; water drops from the sky seemed denser and denser with every passing second. I was there, lying down, in a bloody puddle, in the middle of the forest. I wish I could travel back in time… to this morning when we all got picked up in Burak’s SUV for the camping trip. I wish I could make a bold step to kill this demon in front of me. I wish I had come prepared… I wish I was able to save that man… I wish I could see my parents one last time…
I remember using my senses to guide me toward the loud cries, which we all acknowledged from our campsite. I remember myself walking closer and closer to something that I noticed at a distance, which led me to spectate a horrific scene. I saw this demon with an axe standing over another man, who was lying down. Even though I couldn’t see their faces, I could sense his temper. Even though I didn’t know the person, I felt some ache in me. Within a blink, the monster thrashed him. His loud cries echoed through the place once again. The attacker stabbed him with the axe for the second time, then a third and fourth. I wanted to shout, run, and stop him, but I couldn’t do anything. Witnessing a murder, right in front of my eyes, was the last thing I ever envisioned for myself that night. I remember him struggling to get up, struggling to crawl away, struggling to keep his warm blood from gushing out. Those high-pitched cries echoed through the place for a while until it started to diminish; everything went silent again as if nothing happened. His body and soul were separated from each other, his body laid by the huge tree, motionless, as his blood got washed away by the rain. The evil man was still present there, so was I. I remember the devil turning his neck towards me; yes, yes, he noticed… he noticed my existence. He glared and commenced towards me, gradually, with that weapon. I could hear my own heartbeat. Each droplet of rain felt like needles. I knew his next move. I knew it. My mind already envisioned my death… I wanted to disappear, to run back, but I was still, like a statue.
Both of our eyes met as he stood right in front. His eyes were as deep as the forest. He didn’t utter anything, but his eyes did. I don’t know what exactly, but I sensed his anger through them. My broken-heart and heavy-soul refused to express anything. Only my eyes shouted quietly, just like his. I vividly remember him pushing me on the muddy ground and standing over me, raising his bloody weapon. A flash of terror invaded my soul. I could feel my inner voice trying to calm my racing heart. Right then, I felt something… like… like a tearing sensation and noise in me; yes, yes, he struck me. Just like the way he stabbed that man. He stabbed me again, and again, and one last time.
Along with the sudden coldness in me, I felt my hands getting soaked with my warm blood. Yet, I found my eyes still focused on his, and his were on mine. Suddenly I found his demonic eyes unfocused from mine. I felt his hands on the axe trying to pull out of my flesh, which I held in me tightly using all my last strength. He looked back and forth and back and forth, before disappearing into the woods.
My body was slowly giving up on me. My blood kept gushing out; My tears kept streaming down as I screamed with inner pain. I could taste the metallic flavor as blood rose to my throat. My racing heart started to calm down. The tall trees surrounding me began to seem blurry. My hands were going numb; my brain refused to think about anything else. I couldn’t sense the expected misery of death anymore; My mind was only playing flashbacks of all the happy memories with my parents, friends, and my beloved sister. Is this what dying is supposed to feel like? I felt a raindrop right on my left-pupil. I closed my eyes…
Every detail from that trip is still fresh in my memory, starting from the moment I picked everyone up in my SUV. That night, there were two murders. Mia died trying to save the life of a stranger. Even though she couldn’t rescue him, she did hold justice to him. The police traced the fingerprints from the axe, which she retained until her last living minute. It turns out that the demon was involved in human organ-trafficking. And that poor man happened to be the next target, whose heart was contracted for $250,000 to a European client.
We found her green eyes shut… face covered with blood… hands grasped tightly onto the axe… and her body, lifeless… we could have saved her if we made it there a few minutes earlier… but maybe this is how it was meant to end.
I wrote this piece almost a year ago; it was one of the very first short story ideas I had as I was falling in love with writing. The idea of this piece came to me when I was admiring the beauty of rain. I was questioning myself—how does it feel like to die during one’s favorite weather or when it’s raining in my case. I started writing the piece with that climax of death—the setting of a forest, along with the gloomy and rainy weather. I remember myself reading this story over and over again and editing it in a way that would help the readers feel the desired emotions throughout the story.
At first, the story ended with the main character alive. However, as I was editing, I decided to kill the character Mia. The reason behind that decision was to make the readers feel more emotional and sympathetic with Mia. At the same time, growing strong hatred for the killer. This piece is very special to me, probably because of the crucial hours I spent making thousands of edits. I remember myself taking away a lot of details from this story as I wanted to leave the readers with questions and curiosity. I focused a lot on describing the character’s death using very expanded imagery as I expanded to emphasize the actions and feelings of the character as compared to the original.
Marzia Seemat is a person who is passionate about writing and design. Her personal goal is to create creative designs and write creative writings- including intense stories. She loves to watch horror movies and loves to make watercolor paintings. Other than her interests, he is extremely passionate about the environment.—She loves rain with coffee.—Loves the smell of new books.