You can’t hide from eyes that never close.
Not even a blink, ever.
We’ve tried distractions, but they don’t work.
Even if the eyes glance to the side for a moment, it isn’t enough time to get the door open. And even if it was, only one of us could get through without being seen. Maybe two.
They say the door isn’t even locked, but no one’s really sure about that because they only got close enough to turn the handle once.
That was before my time, and no one really likes to talk about what happened after that, even though we’re pretty sure no one can hear us talking.
They’re just always watching.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.