2025-2026, Flash Fiction

"Untitled" – Noah Thompson-Jones '27

Wandering the woods, separated from the group. Performers love eyes on them till they’re not on the stage. Singers love the clout till it comes to their doorstep. People love hiking until they find the eyes, always watching. Every step, every turn, they watch. Yet you are clueless until the eyes pierce your soul, and once they do it’s too late. Yet they always keep walking, nothing to hide, nothing to worry about. They talk as if there is nothing lurking in the bushes, watching. They always are so clueless to… them. Why? Human nature is always so curious, why not now? If they could just see them, they might have a chance. But they never do. They keep walking on the trail. And they watch them walk, slowly waiting as they gather. And the human walks and walks. The eyes keep watching, judging, as if they are waiting for the one. The one who can free them. No one has noticed. The eyes gather every time a new experiment enters, wanting to believe this one could be the one. It never is.