Rose Tinted Lenses
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Alex flattened themself behind the ancient rollercoaster. Six feet away, everyone was going about their usual business, up and down the road, in and out of shops, chatting to friends, without ever glancing in Alex’s direction.
Three feet away, thin black tentacles tapped on the first boards, soft as dripping water, relentless as clockwork, and coming ever closer.
Alex edged sideways, their eyes darting to find somewhere safe.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A new set of tapping came from behind them, and Alex’s breath came faster, even as a whisper crawled across their skin.
“Silly human, you could have been safe. You should have followed the crowd. You should have worn your contact lenses.”
Alex wanted to shout back that they didn’t have contact lenses, that they had never worn contact lenses, that they didn’t need them. Shouting would give away their location though. They bit down on their lip instead.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A tentacle came down within inches of Alex’s shoe and they flinched. One elbow clattered noisily against the rollercoaster.
Six feet away, nobody took any notice. It was as if none of the people could see or hear anything out of the ordinary.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Alex broke and ran for the crowd. Surely they could get away from all of this, lose these - these tapping things - in the everyday world.
A tentacle curled lazily around their ankles, and they crashed to the ground right next to the road. Alex stretched out a frantic hand, begging for help, begging for someone to stop, to see what was happening. Pink-tinged eyes looked blankly through them, feet stepped over them as they thrashed, placid voices discussed the weather over their head.
Tentacles tapped up Alex’s body, pinning them tighter in place.
“No one will help you,” the whisper drummed. “They are all good people, nice people, obediently wearing their contact lenses. They can’t see you, no matter what you do.”
A tentacle wrapped around Alex’s throat. Three more bound their mouth shut. They tried to writhe, but even their hair was pinned down, immobile. Instead, they screwed their eyes shut.
“Oh, silly human, that won’t help you. But don’t worry, we’re going to be so kind to you. We’re going to give you lenses that you can’t take out, and you won’t see us ever again. You’ll just remember. Isn’t that nice of us.”
The tentacles were tap, tap, tapping on their eyelids now, thinner than ever, twining around their eyelashes and forcing their eyes open.
The last thing that Alex saw clearly was a rose-tinted lense approaching their eye, held by yet another tentacle.
#
It was a normal day. The weather was pleasant and the shops were crowded. And somewhere, just out of sight, Alex could hear water dripping.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
