The Eyes Horror Upd

At first, he thought they were marbles. Wet, glass spheres catching the light. But then one blinked. A slow, lubricated slide of a translucent lid. Then another blinked. And another. They weren't reflections. They were eyes. Dozens of them, wedged into the drywall like trapped specimens, pupils dilating wide in the dark, all fixed on him. They didn't have bodies, just the eyes, staring with a hunger that had no mouth to express it.

I stopped laughing three days ago.

Elias took a step back, and as one, the eyes rolled upward, tracking his movement with surgical precision. He realized then that the house wasn't breathing. They were. the eyes horror