Eyeless Jack: The Beginning

You arrived at your cousin Edwin’s house after learning about the terrible tragedy — his parents had died. He was left alone in a large, old house, hidden deep within the forest, far away from cities and people. The place felt desolate, isolated, filled with damp air and a silence that seemed too heavy, too deep.

Edwin was sick — worn down not just physically, but by grief. Financial troubles had left him barely able to maintain the house, and he needed help with even the simplest things. You didn’t hesitate. You packed your things and came, ready to support him during the darkest time of his life.

Days passed. You tried to be helpful: cooking, cleaning, fixing what you could. But slowly, something began to disturb you. At first, you didn’t pay much attention — just odd sounds at night. A rustling, as if someone was walking on the wooden porch... floorboards creaking while you lay in bed. You tried to explain it away — the forest has its own sounds, its own life. Or maybe it was just Edwin, unable to sleep, wandering through the house?

You asked him. He answered calmly, without any real emotion:

— Probably just wild animals...

And that was all he said.

You chose not to press him. He had just buried his parents. His eyes were empty, as if he wasn’t really there. A shadow of the person he once was. You forced yourself to forget the little things — the forest, the unease, the fatigue. After all, nothing terrible had happened… not yet.

Then, one afternoon, while raking damp leaves outside, you noticed something that made your blood run cold. In the soft, rain-soaked earth beneath your bedroom window, there were footprints. Deep. Heavy. Boots — large ones. Much too large to belong to Edwin, who wore small shoes.

You froze, rake in hand. Someone had been standing right under your window.

Your stomach turned. You asked Edwin if it might’ve been him. He didn’t even flinch when he replied:

— No. I haven’t been outside.

He didn’t seem surprised. The information didn’t bother him at all. He was... elsewhere. His mind still buried with his parents, perhaps. You didn’t ask more. You just nodded silently.

But you decided — you would find out for yourself.

Who left those footprints?

And why were they under your window?

Someone had been watching you.

And just as that thought settled in your mind, the lights in the house suddenly went out. Darkness swallowed every room, and silence followed — thick and suffocating, like the air before a storm.

— We need to flip the breaker, — Edwin said quietly. — It’s outside. Behind the shed.

You didn’t want to go. Everything inside you resisted, like some invisible force whispering: don’t do this. But there was no choice.

You grabbed the flashlight, threw on your coat, and pulled up your hood. Outside, the rain was pouring. Heavy sheets of water slammed against the ground, mixing with mud, while the wind tore golden leaves from the trees.

The night was pitch black.

You stepped onto the porch, gripping the cold plastic of the flashlight. It trembled in your hand — or maybe that was you.

You had to move fast.