Blink

I can't remember most of my childhood. When I was fourteen, I was sent to what my parents liked to call my "special school." All bullshit aside, it was a nuthouse. A mental institution that catered to teenagers. After all the drugs and treatment they gave me, I can't remember anything prior, including why my parents sent me there. Whenever I try to ask them, they change the subject. I learned to stop asking; after all, it can't have been a good experience for them. It makes me feel lucky that I can't remember.

One memory has stayed with me though. Oddly enough, it was a video I used to watch. I can't recall what it was about, only that it was hilarious, and it always cheered me up. It must not have been age appropriate, because I remember having to sneak out of my room while my parents were asleep to watch it. It had a weird title...something to do with eyes, I think. That's all I can remember, and because of my rather limited amount of information, I've never been able to find it.

A few days ago, however, that changed. It was around midnight. My favorite pastime is staying up until dawn watching movies. Anything from romantic comedies, to action, to documentaries, I'd watch it all.

Thanks to video streaming websites and internet piracy, I never had to leave my house to indulge my hobby, but my laptop was refusing to boot up. I'd let my friend borrow it the day before, which had apparently been a mistake. He'd returned it sticky and smelling of Red Bull. Apparently, the liquid damage wasn't merely external. Damn him. I didn't want to drive anywhere, as my car was low on fuel, so I tried to find other ways to entertain myself.

After several failed attempts to read a book, I sighed and admitted to myself that it wasn't going to work. Grabbing my keys, I headed out.

I made my way to the center of town, where the buildings were all in bad shape and uncomfortably close together, as if they'd been shoved violently against each other in an effort to make room for more. All the apartments were occupied by drug addicts, or young single mothers on welfare. Graffiti was more common than actual paint. It was a sad place.

Nestled between an apartment complex and a dirty-looking diner was a 24-hour video store. I had only been inside once before. The interior definitely matched the exterior. It was dimly lit, with grimy walls and a horribly outdated shag carpet. Despite the fact that this was 2014, they only had VHS tapes. I didn't mind, as I'm one of the few 22-year-olds who still owns a VCR. Their selection was strange as well. There were no popular movies, only underground cult classics, indie films and B (or lower) horror films. Again, I didn't mind. It made my search for a movie I hadn't already seen much easier.

As I was browsing the shelves, one tape caught my eye. The sleeve was garish and psychedelic. Even though it was just card stock paper like any other movie sleeve, the brightly colored patterns seemed to shift and twist in the dim light. The title was emblazoned on the front in classic horror-style drippy font: "Blink."

I nearly gasped aloud from excitement. It was the same show from my childhood memory, I knew it was. I snagged it and brought it to the counter. "How much to rent this?" I asked the owner.

The old man eyed me for a few seconds before responding. "Ya seem pretty excited about that one," he wheezed. "Tell ya what. It's three bucks to rent for a week, but I'll let ya keep it for the same price. No one ever rents it anyway." He smirked as I fumbled for my wallet. "I'd give it to ya free, but I gotta make a livin' somehow," he added with a toothless grin.

"I understand. Thank you so much!" I gave him my brightest smile before rushing back to my car. I was so excited, I barely remember the drive home.

As soon as I entered my apartment, I put the tape into my VCR and made sure it had been rewound to the beginning. It had been, which was fortunate. I didn't want to wait another second to watch it, to know why it was the only thing I could remember before my stint in the institution. Grinning, I hit the play button.

A pair of eyes appeared on the screen almost instantly. There was no color, no sound, no movement. My grin faded as I looked into the eyes. Was this the opening sequence? Or was there something wrong with the tape? I was about to stop watching, until a voice from the television broke the silence.

"Blink," a deep voice said. I blinked. The eyes on the screen either blinked exactly when I had, or else they hadn't moved at all.

"Blink," the voice repeated. I blinked again. Despite the darkness of the room, my vision was red when I did so, as if my closed eyes were turned toward the sun.

"Blink." My vision was white this time, with thin black cracks around the edges.

"Blink." I saw a picture, black and gray and shadowy, of a dark alleyway paved with cobblestone.

"Blink." An old man, smiling happily, standing on a high balcony overlooking a city.

The video was an hour long. As the voice continued to instruct me to blink, the images I saw behind my eyelids grew stranger and more unsettling. Finally, it cut to black, and the VCR started to auto rewind the tape. I got up and ran to the bathroom. I crouched over the toilet and puked, without even bothering to turn on the light. Once my stomach was empty, I dry-heaved for several more seconds before getting back to my feet. I walked calmly back to my living room. By that time, the video had finished rewinding.

I sat down, and pressed play.