the witch is riding you

That was the day the mosquitoes began landing on my eyes, attempting to puncture the veins with their proboscises and feast on the blood therein, which would not have been so bad if that was where it ended, but their wings contained some sort of material which became sticky when combined with saline, and so their wings stuck to my eyes, where they remained until the mosquito either died or pulled off its own wings and fell to the ground in an attempt to free itself. It became painful to close my eyelids, and soon I could not close them at all, the exposed portion of each eye now fully covered with the wings and bodes of mosquitoes. At this point I could still make out vague shadows, but with the eyelids unable to close and the sheet of mosquito corpses across my eyes preventing tears from reaching the iris or pupil the eye began to dry up and atrophy. I went to a hospital to seek medical help, but the first doctor was convinced such a thing would never actually happen in nature, as he was an occasional viewer of The Nature Channel and thus considered himself an expert in the habits of all creatures great and small. He proceeded to call two orderlies to escort me to the psychiatric ward, convinced I had done this to myself in a sideways attempt to seek psychiatric assistance. I fled the hospital and took the bus (driving being now impossible) to another hospital, where a doctor was convinced this was a treatable condition with eyedrops saturated with insecticide and a mild corrosive agent to eat away the gluey substance holding the wings to my eyes. The eyedrops he prescribed came with instructions that the bottle was to be diluted, but as I could not read the instructions I assumed the solution was to be taken unadulterated, and so my eyes soon dissolved into a kind of pulpy mush entirely unsuitable for sight, and then while startled awake early one morning by a sudden realization whose details fell away immediately after awakening, the mass fell out of my eye sockets onto my chest, leaving the sockets empty. While this was a bit unseemly, it mattered little to me as I could no longer see the reaction of others gazing in horror at the exposed holes in my face, and indeed it was an unintended boon, as now I had a convenient place to keep my change.

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