CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I decided to order contacts online" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 23, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by LurkaLuna: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Angelo Peluso: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/3o...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

What started, this whole ordeal is an issue that I'm sure that anyone who wears contacts or glasses can relate to. I've had the same eye prescription since I was 13 years old. It literally has not fluctuated once. Every year since my release, I've had to go through the same crap. It goes something like this. Take a day off from work, see the optometrist, have my eyes dilated, be told my prescription has not changed even a fraction of a point, and then pray I survive the drive home with my weird, light-sensitive eyes.

I usually end up getting a migraine from the dilation, so overall I consider my yearly eye exam to be an exasperating, painful occasion. I just don't know why I need to get my prescription renewed every year. Neither does my wallet. I'm working part-time, or at least that's what my contract says. I'm regularly pushing 50 hours a week, so no insurance. This means that two months ago, when my prescription was up and my final contact ripped,

I was dreading the bill for what I knew would culminate to useless experience. Then, I had a brilliant idea. I thought it would be smart to order contacts online and skip my annual irritation. I checked the popular sites, and, much to my displeasure, they either required an updated prescription or was substantially more expensive. I was about to give up after looking through the first five or six, but then I found a seller who seemed perfect. The all-seeing-eye.com

They had my brand for about 20 bucks cheaper than I usually pay and advertise next day shipping. I'm usually not the type of guy who would have ordered something from an unknown website, but there was an option to purchase through PayPal. Thinking I didn't have much to lose, I clicked the big red buy button. I went to bed, feeling uneasy about my purchase. As soon as I'd bought it, I felt sure it was a scam and thought I had a few annoying calls to PayPal in my near future.

The next morning, I got ready for work. I put in my one good contact and hoped that I wouldn't get a migraine from the missing one. When I went outside, there was a small cardboard box on the porch, in my trailer. It was a little after 5 a.m., much too early for the mail to have run. I picked up the box and thought maybe I'd miss the Amazon delivery the previous day. I threw it in the passenger seat of my car without giving it a second thought and sped off to work. I'm employed as a janitor at the local retirement home, Shady Oaks, and yes, it's literally named that. I haven't changed the name for privacy concerns or anything like that. The owner never made a

at the guy, just must be lacking in the imagination department. Anyway, it's pretty large by retirement home standards and advertises itself as a retirement community. Currently, there are about 500 residents, the majority of which are well over the age of 75. There's a decent percentage of livings in their 60s, plagued by the likes of dementia and Alzheimer's, but only a handful of patients are younger than that. All the younger ones either have debilitating mental illness or have suffered from some sort of trauma that has rendered them unable to live on their own. Of that group, I had only seen one resident at Shady Oaks younger than me.

Her name was Anne, and she was only 20 years old when she got into a fatal car crash. A drunk driver swirved onto oncoming traffic, killing Anne's family, her mother and her two younger sisters on impact. Anne, the sole survivor, told me how she listened as cars passed by the wreckage for it felt like hours. All she could see was blood and broken glass. She told me that her body, the thing she had thought was hers, was suddenly unresponsive an alien. She tried to move, to pull herself from the wreckage, but her body wouldn't listen. It kept her locked in place. Anne told me that she felt like something else had taken control of her,

that some force had possessed her and was forcing her to stay in place, despite the vast disconnects between her body and mind, Anne told me she could feel everything. She could feel all those purple points of flaring pain, the glass embedded into her arms and legs, all the broken bones that caused the breath to come out in raspy, wet coughs. When the E&T finally arrived, reportedly ten minutes after the crash, Anne said she could hear them saying that no one,

could have survived the crash. She tried to make a noise to alert them that she was there and needed help, but she couldn't. Each time she tried, she said all she could reduce was a quiet gurgle as she choked on her own blood. Anne was sure she would die there. Thankfully, Anne survived, but she'd broken her neck. On top of becoming paralysed, she'd also sustained a major concussion. Her life would never be the same.

Anne's father was mostly out of the picture. I don't really know the whole story, but I know that he wasn't there for her during Anne's childhood. Her dad seemed to step up after the accident. Apparently, the way that the EMTs had removed her from the wreckage might have worsened her injury. He fought tooth and nail for Anne until the hospital agreed on a settlement. I don't know the exact number, but it was apparently a pretty decent sum. Anne's father used that money to put in Shady Oaks and then took off to God knows where

She hasn't heard from him in years Anne is the main reason I've stayed employed so long at Shady Oaks It's kind of ironic When I first saw Anne six years ago I was on the verge of quitting And seeing her so frail and small That I first thought she was a child Was nearly the final nail in the coffin to me turning in my resignation

Anne was a far cry from the usual residence I dealt with. Shady Oaks is separated into four buildings. The first is where the able-bodied seniors who need minimal care live. A lot of the residents here have their own cars, and they are free to come and go with some parameters. The second is where the residents with either minor physical disabilities or the preliminary stages of dementia or Alzheimer's live. The residents are still somewhat free to roam,

the building, but the doors to the outside stay locked. The third block I try to avoid. It's where the residents with severe, debilitating issues live. They are confined to their rooms. It's a sad sight to see. The fourth block is where I work. It is the smallest, around 25 residents, and it's where the old folks are sent when their minds are still solid,

but their bodies are not. I've overheard a few past co-workers refer to us as the death block. It's a fitting name. This is where a lot of residents are moved to when they are standing on their last leg. We do have a few long-term residents, like Anne, who aren't quite a death store, but they are rare cases. I don't mind working so close to death. In fact, I'm fairly certain that working in the fourth block is far better than the third. I try not to get attached to the old folks in the death block.

They don't stay here long after all. Still, seeing Anne so young and hearing the death block made me feel... I don't know. Upset. Scared? Unsettled? All I can say is that it just didn't feel right.

It didn't feel fair. It still doesn't. Anne was paralysed, but she could still talk. When I would clean a room, she would ask me to turn the TV on and make polite conversation. She had her pronounced stutter from the accident, but I could tell how smart she was. I could see, even before I'd known her, that her body had become a cage that prevented her from moving or even communicating the way she wanted. It was excruciatingly difficult to be around her. Again, I'd already been on the verge of quitting, but for reasons I'll get into in a moment,

I was worried about finding employment elsewhere. After a few weeks with Anne, I requested my manager move me. At first, it seemed like she was going to approve of request, but then I made the mistake of telling her why I wanted to be moved. Evidently, the fact that I was uncomfortable around a young immobile girl meant I was perfect for the job. She said this with ease, and then callously joked about being worried about some of my co-workers. I was repulsed.

The flippant way she could imply that about them, almost laughing, but with a sick certainty in her eyes disgusted me. I remember heading back to the death block after that meeting, eyeing each of my co-workers as I went. Which ones had she been talking about? I was sure that I would quit after that. But as I went online, looking for openings, this overwhelming feeling of anxiety settled like a dark cloud.

The reason I felt so bleak isn't something I run around broadcasting, but it's pretty unavoidable in the context of employment. I'm a felon. It doesn't matter if I've been on the straight and narrow for over seven years. It doesn't matter that I spent my youth, the entirety of my twenties behind bars. None of that matters. All prospective employers see is a little box checked yes, because a stupid 19-year-old version of myself

caught a charge on account of possessing a Schedule 4 with intent to sell. And it's true. I'm not going to spin you some story about me being falsely convicted. My mom had passed away shortly before the events that led me to prison. I was cleaning out of stuff,

found the whole bottles of Xernics. I was your average poor college kid and thought I would make a quick book. Instead, I got 10 years. When I got out of prison, I was pushing 30, and the only place I could find to hire me was Shady Oaks. I wondered, especially after talking with my manager, how many of my co-workers were in the same boat as me. How many were felons that accepted this minimum wage, demeaning janitorial job, with no benefits because it was their only option. As a felon, it would be kind of hypocritical to judge others for holding the same status.

Still, I found myself watching my co-workers, wondering if they were violent, wondering if they would really hurt Anne in the way my manager had implied, if given the chance. So, I stayed, and I would end up being thankful that I did. After that horrid conversation with my manager, I figured there was no avoiding Anne. I stopped being short with her. As I thought, Anne's mind was brilliant, though. Through her broken. body, there was a shine to a soul that could not be dampened.

I found out about her life before the crash, all of her hobbies, what a dreams had been. You get the point. She came about a year after I started at Shady Oaks. I joked often that she was both the youngest and the oldest resident in the death block. It's been around six years now, and Anne has become my best friend. So that morning, the morning I'd found the boxer. my porch, I grabbed my cart and headed straight to Wands' room. This was the usual routine.

She was asleep, but I flicked the light on and sat down purposely heavy on the edge of the bed. She groaned, stuttering out my name. Who else? I asked her, lighting up a cigarette, and didn't smoke before she came to Shady Oaks. But, well, caught me a bad influence. I introduced her to one of the world's most uselessly expensive. pastimes. She opened her mouth and I popped the cigarette in after taking a draw myself. She took a few shallow breaths and then I took the cigarette back. You heard anything about my request? I was in a line of sight, so I shook my head. Sorry, Anne. She set her mouth into a tight frown.

You see, Anna had been told as a kid to shoot for the stars and she had taken that literally Before her accident, she'd been well on a way to a dual degree in astronomy and physics. In another life, I have no doubt and would have become a renowned astrophysicist, but in this one, the only one who would see a brilliance was me, which was a waste, since I only understood half of a science talk, and that's on a good day. She had a sight set on a meteor shower a couple of months away, and had put in a request to be wheeled out to watch the sky, It was a weird request, but I thought it was manageable.

The only issue I could really foresee was a shower being visible from 3am to 5am, odd hours for a resident to ask for fresh air, but I'd hoped they would grant her this one thing since she rarely asked for much. After her initial disappointment had passed, we got to talking as usual. We smoked another cigarette, not really saying anything too substantial, until I remember the box on my porch. I joked about my Amazon addiction, not even remembering what I'd ordered,

and Anne had a strange look. You said you ordered... contacts? She doesn't like when I finished her sentences, but I'd already been in the room for half an hour. If I stayed much longer, someone was bound to come searching. Well, yeah, but next day's shipping isn't that fast.

and roller eyes. Just saying, I'll come back in my lunch break and prove you wrong. So, with those words, I grabbed my cart and set out on my cleaning route. I went about my day until about noon, then clocked out, retrieving the box in my lunch, before going back to Wend's room. Interestingly, there was no shipping label on the cardboard.

It was perfectly blank. I thought to myself as I walked to a room. After I prevented Anne, I started eating lunch with her as opposed to in my car. Eating with her is something I now realize I took for granted. Just having someone to talk to as you have a meal. Is that something you really think about until you don't have it anymore? Starting to think this is a prank, I told Anne as I grabbed the fold-out TV tray from behind the door. The box?

I nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed. There's no shipping label, and someone really overdid it with the tape. Could with their neighborhood kids. Maybe they should have did bird in a box or something. That's your first thought? Trailer Park kids are weird man. I told her, as I clawed at the tape on the box. Wow, they really didn't want me getting into this.

Want me to help? she asked sarcastically. Finally, getting one of my short fingernails under the tape, I ripped it open. An outfell contacts. What is it? I groaned, exaggeratedly. Well, you're right.

It's my contacts. Still weird that it came so early and there's no shipping label. Trailer Park Kids? I just frowned and said, Maybe. I examined the box, trying to see if there was any indication it had been tampered with, but the cardboard was smooth and unmarred.

I knew from the tape that it had been sealed well. Well, whatever, I said standing up, I'm going to put in the new lenses. I went into Anne's bathroom. Each of the rooms on Death Block had a small one attached, but of course, Anne is perfectly clean. She can't really use it. I washed my hands in the sink and then took.

tore open the box. The packaging looked exactly like my brand, as did the inside. I opened up one of the contacts and rubbed it between my forefinger and thumb. It felt the same. I looked into the mirror and popped the contact directly onto my pupil. Half expecting it to burn, my eyes were watering up. I glanced up, down, and then blinked to ensure the contact sat correctly. When I opened my eyes, I could see it.

see normally. I discarded my old contact into the sink and popped a fresh one into the other eye as well. I grinned in my reflection, thinking that I'd finally found a way to circumvent my annual eye exam. I left the bathroom to deliver the good news to earn, but she wasn't there anymore. Especially after befriending her, my manager's words have echoed through my mind. I've always wondered about one of my co-workers sneaking in and hurting her. I mean, if I can spend hours in a room without anyone questioning or really even noticing, what's stopping someone with bad intentions from doing the same? Anne?

I called her name. Scammed. She replied at once, the sound of her voice emanating from her empty bed. When I looked closer, I could see the indentation of her head on the pillow of the sheet wrinkling under the weight of something unseen. I took a step forward and there Anne was. Her pale skin was translucent. I saw the white of the bed sheet more than I saw her. Being very eloquent with words, I said,

Oh my God. I remember thinking, is this from the contacts? I mean, it had to be, right? One moment I see Anne normal. Then I put in some new contacts and she suddenly goes transparent. Anne was starting to panic, asking questions. that I vaguely registered to be about burning and blindness. She thought I hurt my eyes or something.

I don't know why I didn't tell her what I saw. Maybe if I would have said something, I could have prevented what was coming. I saw the alarm in her near see-through face, and I felt the need to reassure her. I'm an only child, and I'm hardly eight years older than Anne, so it'd be weird to say she's like a sister or child to me. I don't really know what it would feel like to have either of them.

those. Still, I've always felt a distinctly familiar bond with Anne. I don't want her to worry over me. There's this unfamiliar feeling of overprotectiveness that settles over me when I can see Anne frazzled. I felt it in this moment. I didn't tell Anne about her being see-through, but it wasn't just due to my need to quail Anne's anxiety. I also felt, from the pit of my stomach that I absolutely was not supposed to tell anyone about the strange effect the contact had on my sight. Anne was staring at me. I made up something along the lines of. I just can't believe I didn't get scammed. These contacts work great. She made that face at me, the one where she scrunches up her nose and her mouth is drawn so tight her lips disappear. It's her way of calling

BS, but she didn't say anything. It's really nothing, I said. Just. happy I didn't get scammed. Her gaze burnt. I felt sweat dripped down the nape of my neck. I shifted from one foot to the other. Anyway, you hungry? I brought some fast food for lunch that day. She smiled brightly as I shared some cold, greasy fries to her.

To me, they tasted pretty bad, but I guess it's good in comparison to the mush she's used to. I'm not supposed to share food with residents or really give them anything, but I do, and not just Anne. You might tell me I'm soft, when a raspy old woman saves from death asks you to snag her some sugar-free buttercotch candies. Well, why wouldn't I say yes?

That's pretty doable as far as last requests go. So, after lunch, I went back to cleaning. As I did, I noticed that most of the other residents on the death block were in similar states of transparency as Anne. It all came to her head. when I got to the last resident, Mr. Brown. He was a nice old guy who'd been on death block a little over a month. Telling stories was his thing, and I enjoyed listening.

Mr. Brown's room appeared to be empty when I entered. He'd been in horrid health the day before, and when I'd seen the empty bed, I'd thought the worst. I began to sweep in the corners until I heard somebody quietly past gas. Sorry, boy. Mr. Brown's voice scrambled. I was trying to hold that in until after you left. I looked all around.

No one else was in the room. Well, if it smells that bad. My tension was drawn to the bedside chair. There was an indentation in the fabric as if someone was sitting there. No need to look for an exit. Just open the window and come back after. There was a haggen cough. After it airs out.

Sorry, sir, I said, looking at the chair. I just didn't see you there at first. He made a noise of understanding. Yeah, I'm wasting away. My arms ain't been this skinny since I was a boy. He coughed again. Son, he said shakily. This time when he coughed, a spray of mucus red erupted from nowhere and painted the floor.

I think I need a nurse. Immediately I hit the button on the side of his bed. and then sprinted to the front desk, grabbing the RN who was sitting there filing her nails. Later, I'd reflect on how every resident I had seen that day were in various stages of transparency.

But the nurses all seemed perfectly opaque. I'd think about all that later. But that was the farthest thing from my mind in that moment. Mr. Brown was all I could think about. I dragged the nurse in Mr. Brown's room explaining what happened as we went.

When we got there, I could see the man again. He was face down in front of his chair. The nurse asked my assistant in turning him over. As soon as I saw his face, I knew he was gone. Those eyes weren't the eyes of Mr. Brown. His eyes were so black that he couldn't tell the pupil apart from the iris, but they sparkled with mirth.

There was a crinkle to the crow's feet that lay beside them that told the story of Mr. Brown's life, of the hardships he had been forced. and the joy he'd felt in spite of it. The person in front of me had dull black eyes, devoid of even the smallest glimmer and his face was smooth. The wrinkle seemingly taken by death. Several more nurses ran in,

pushing me out of the way as they worked to resuscitate him. I already knew the outcome. Mr. Brown was declared dead at 406. Death isn't uncommon here, so it's not like I got to go home early. I finished up my shift and stopped by Anne's room once again. I told her what had happened with Mr. Brown, leaving out the part where he'd been completely invisible.

I'd give you a hug if I could, she said. I know you liked him. I nodded, not telling her what I was actually concerned about. I nudged the hand with my pinky, half expected to phase through her. But, despite a translucent body, she still felt solid. Hang in there, I told her, not knowing why I said that. When I got home, I investigated my porch, looking for any sign of the delivery man who dropped off my package.

I wasn't sure exactly what I was expecting to find, an invoice from the Illuminati. But no, my porch was empty, save for a trash bag full of cans, I needed to take to the recycling plant. I checked my paper account. but the purchase hadn't posted. I tried to look for the site I'd purchased the contacts on, but I couldn't even find the smallest trace online.

I went to bed with an uneasy feeling. Over the course of the next two weeks, I continued my routine. Each morning I would stare at my contacts, looking for any abnormalities before sticking them in my eyes. The residents on death block slowly grew increasingly translucent, while the nurses stayed opaque. I realised after the next death, Mrs. Hamilton, what I suspected from Mr. Brown, was true.

The contact showed me when someone was going to die. The more transparent a person becomes, the closer they are to death. Mrs. Hamilton was completely invisible the day she died, just as Mr. Brown had been. I scattered the internet, even dropping a question on the likes of Quora, On, if anyone knew about contacts, they'd let you see when someone was going to die.

But to no avail. I don't know why I received these, and honestly, I wish I would have just gone to the eye doctor now. After another week, watching the residents fade away, I finally told Anne about my contacts. She was hardly there anymore. Each day since Mrs. Hamilton, I'd pay close attention to her health. I'm sure I violated a bunch of hip irregulations by going through the nurse's clipboard, but I was getting anxious. As far as I could tell, Anne was stable.

Her condition was the same as when she was brought in, and she wasn't complaining of any discomfort. Are you playing a prank? She asked hesitantly. I shook my head. No. Then immediately asked, do you believe me? She looked away.

her eyebrows nearly touching as she furred them. I'm a person of science, but you have no reason to lie. She caught me, looking at her strange. Am I invisible? I lied, as solid as ever. I scooted a little closer and took a limp hand into my own. Again, I was surprised I could even touch her.

She made that first. face, and I'm pretty sure that she knew. Instead of saying anything about it, she instead said, Make me a promise. Not a question. Of course, I said, gripping her hand. I'd heard that tone before. Just don't make it sound like a last request. Next month, the meteor shower. Come to shady oaks, watch it with me. And I could feel tears stinging at my eyes. When was the last time I'd cried? Of course, I promise.

The next day I went into Anne's room, pulling a cigarette out of my pocket to share as we did each morning. She wasn't there. Grief hit me. It hit me harder than the day my mom passed, harder than the moment I was sentenced and realized my youth was gone, harder than anything else I felt in my life.

I stumbled backwards, the cigarette box softly landing on the tile floor. Then I heard a voice call my name. Did you trip? And I felt tears rolling down my face. Anne, I shouted, you're here? I practically leapt to the bed in one step. Other than some wrinkles on the sheets, there was hardly any indication that Anne could be there.

Of course. I reached forward and felt that, yes, she was there. Hey, she scolded. Don't mess up my hair. If it falls in my face, how am I supposed to move it? Sorry, I said, still keeping my hand where about the top of her head was. I just, I thought that it's okay, she whispered. And I sat down, lighting up a cigarette as usual.

After we'd finished our smoke, I went and grabbed a nurse. I made up some story to him, said that Anne was complaining of a headache, and he sat in the chair beside the bed, taking her vitals and talking to her about a headache she, thankfully, pretended to have. I left the room trying to convince myself everything would be all right. But of course, this was useless. I could feel the dread creeping up. by me like a spider to a trapped bug.

A little before my lunch break, I heard a commotion. Nurses rushed down the hallway. I followed them, a heavy feeling setting into my stomach. They went straight to Anne's room. When I got to the door, I paused, feeling sick to my stomach. There was Anne. She was staring up at the sky with the same smile she wore when I'd shift to bed to look up the stars. Nurses gathered around her, busting themselves for saving her. But I knew what would

happen next. I couldn't get into a room, the doorframe too crowded. But when I locked, I saw her, those blue eyes staring up at the sky, and there was a smile on her face, as if she could see through the white ceiling and finally gaze at the infinite above. I spent the rest of the day in a day, pulmonary embolism. That's what the lead nurse said. She'd had a blood clot in her leg and it had travelled up to her heart. Part of me wanted to get mad, to yell at her, anyone really. But I didn't.

I just nodded and let this emptiness spread over me. And didn't have a funeral. Her father had showed up once several days after she passed and rifled through her jaws, looking for anything of value, but Anne didn't have much. As she was leaving, I was smoking outside. I watched as the first stars of the evening appeared. This was two weeks ago.

I don't know why I called out to him. I couldn't even be sure he was Anne's father. Where'd you put her? Is all I asked. He wheeled around, an upset look on his face. Are you talking to me? I put my cigarette out, taking a step towards the man. Where'd you put Anne? I'd like to visit a grave.

He just dogged in response, about to side-step me, but moved to stay in front of him. Grave? he scoffed. Do you think she left enough to afford that? You want her so bad. Come on. I followed the man to his car. I realized I didn't even know his name. Surely I had mentioned it at some point, but I'd forgotten. Now it didn't seem like a good time to ask.

After rooting around the backseat, the man produced a small silver urn. He shoved it into my chest roughly. It took me a moment to realize he just handed me hands ashes. Frankly, he snarled. I don't give a damn what you do with her. I was just going to dump them into the river. I clutched the cool metal of the iron to my chest, watching as he backed out. That night I set Anne beside the table on the couch.

I don't usually watch the news, but Anne always had me turn on the TV as I left. Diligently keeping up with the world she could hardly participate in. At least I saved you from the ocean, I whispered. Figures the girl who loved the stars would be terrified of sea monsters lurking in the depths. One of the top stories on our local channel was about the coming meteor shower. Fast approaching, there was going to be a viewing party in the town square with vendors and drinks. I looked at the urn, remembering my promise to Anne. We'll still watch them together, I assured.

I almost clicked the TV off as I went to bed, but then I looked at the urn. I knew that Anne was gone, but I'd always left a room dark with the exception of the low glow of a box TV. It didn't feel right to turn it off now. That night I slept uneasily. I kept waking up to find my body shaking, sobs wrenching their way out of my throat and my face wet from tears and sweat. The thought that I could have prevented this was prevalent. I kept denying what I saw. If I would have told someone, maybe they would have caught the blood clot before it came free from a leg.

Maybe Anne would still be here. This kept me awake until my alarm clock went off. Out of habit I hit snooze But I got up I went to the bathroom And the person looking back at me from the mirror And was a sad sight He was all puffy eyes and chin stubble

I've been wearing the same pair of contacts For about a month and a half The brand I buy on monthlies But I usually stretched them out to last two months They weren't ripped There was nothing wrong with the contacts No reason why I shouldn't wear them But I dumped them

When I opened the contact box to get a new pair, I noticed a scrap of paper at the bottom. I wasn't sure if it had been there before or not. I took the paper out and had had a date on it. Nothing more. The date was marked less than two weeks away. Today's date. I folded the paper, placing it in the pocket of my scrubs and tore open the new contacts. At work, I clocked in.

gathered my cleaning supplies and cart, and then I went to Wend's room. I was moving on autopilot, thumbing the cigarette box in my pocket, but then I opened the door to an empty room. Oh, was all I could say. Still, I went in and sat in a bed. Instead of perching on the edge, I lay down. It was uncomfortable. The mattress was a little too hard, even by my standards.

The pillow was nice. It smelled like cigarettes. and the vanilla shampoo unused. I lit a cigarette staring at the popcorn ceiling above. Anne had laid like this for over five years. Sure, sometimes they'd roll her outside if she'd requested, and there was a TV she could see if propped up. But the ceiling.

I wondered how many hours she'd spent staring up at it. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I woke up to the chair of my cigarette dropping onto my collarbone. I immediately shot up and shouted out a couple profanities, patting out the burning ash. This attracted the attention of a nurse, the same one I'd asked to watch Anne days prior. When he walked in, I thought I might yell at him, blame him for what happened. But I couldn't. It was my fault. Also, the guy was translucent.

He looked about the same as Anne did when I first put the contacts in. At this point, I had to be honest with myself about the strange ability that contacts possessed. It let me see when a person was going to die. I don't know how, but they do. This man that stood before me, I knew he couldn't have more than a month left if he was lucky. You were close to her, he asked, and I could see that look in his eyes. It was the same one I saw in my reflection. He felt guilty.

Yeah. said, taking the astray from the drawer in Anne's nightstand. I snuffed out my cigarette. You know, she could tell you where all the constellations were, even if she hadn't been outside in a year, even if it was daytime, she just knew. He faltered in the doorway, looking backwards. But then he came inside, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, rested his elbow on his lap, and tangled his hands into

his hair. Suddenly, it struck me how young this kid looked. He was brought-shouldered, but his face was unlined and youthful. He must have just gotten out of college. For a moment, I thought he was going to cry. How? he asked, voice-cracking. How did you know? I stayed quiet.

She wouldn't have had a headache from the clot. And when you left, he trailed off. When you left, she said, Her head didn't really hurt, that you were just worried. I got up to leave and then... There was nothing you could have done, I told him, patting him on the shoulder. And I knew it was true, in the same way Anne knew the consolations. There was nothing you could have done.

He looked up at me, and through his wide eyes, I could see the bed and the tile beneath him. Look, I said, don't blame yourself for what happened. I think you need to take some time off. Go be with your family. You never know how much time you have left. Maybe I should have said more, but those words felt right as they left my throat.

The nurse didn't smile, but the corners of his lips twitched. Anyway, I've got to get to work before someone notices how long my break has gone on. I switched the TV on, out of habit, and said, The morning news should be on in a few minutes. Then I went about my day. As I did so, I started to wonder about my new context, the reason being that every single soul I encountered was translucent. Every person, regardless of if they were a resident or staff, was a see-through as the nurse I'd talked with earlier. I looked at my own hand.

I still appeared solid. Over the course of the week, everyone slowly faded until today. Today, when I went to work, I didn't see a single body. person. Everyone was there. I heard them. Some especially loud nurses chatting excitedly about the meteor shower happening tonight, but none of them were visible. I did my job as well as I normally do, stopping by Anne's room at the end of my shift to smoke a cigarette. When I got off, I went to the grocery store. There were aisles and aisles full of noise, but completely empty. Carts seemed to stroll themselves and bags of chips and cookies floated.

The baskets and carts were filled with items like beer, hot dogs, frozen pizzas and sandwich meat. As I walked through, I overheard people buzzing with excitement about the meteor shower. Children were excited to break their curfew. Adults are hoping they'd be able to stay awake long enough to see it after a hard day of work. I listened in, feeling as if I was hearing a conversation between ghosts. When I got to the bread aisle, I noticed an old woman. She was the first person I'd actually seen the entire day. Without thinking, I approached her.

What are you doing here? I demanded. She looked up at me with fear, candidly shining behind her Coke bottle glasses. I realised that, as a large man who reeks of cigarettes and cleaning chemicals, it's not exactly socially acceptable for me to suddenly stomp over to an elderly woman and demand things of her. Sorry, I said. I just thought, um, you look much like my grandma. I had a long day and, well, sorry. The tension in her shoulders relaxed a little.

You were reaching for this, weren't you? I asked as I grabbed one of the loaves from the top shelf for her. She inspected the best by date carefully and then smiled up at me. Thank you. She added the loaf to a basket. The top shelves always has the freshest food. It's no problem, I smiled. She was about to turn away, but I needed to know why I could see her, but no one else.

So do you... Are you getting ready for the meteor shower party tonight too? She eyed me suspiciously. All I had in my basket was a six-pack of cheap beer and some pizza rolls. I don't know what those items say about me, but for a single man in his late mid-thirties, I assume it doesn't say upstanding citizen. Still, she smiled.

No, I have to catch a flight in. She looked at a watch. An hour and a half. I'm just doing some shopping for my husband. She jerked ahead towards the benches at the front of the store. I saw a cane standing upright. No person was there, nor the clothes of a person. But there was a cane.

I nodded in that direction, pretending I could see someone. He can't get around as good as he. used to, so I wanted to make sure he was okay. It's my sister's 60th, and we're all going to Venice. I nodded in understanding. That old fool, her eyes sparkled with affection. He tried to go out and end up stuck. I'm just making sure he's set up for the week. I helped her carry her things out to the car. Again, I wondered if there was something more, I should say. I wondered if I should tell her about her husband appearing to be invisible. I thought about suggesting that he go with her.

But it felt wrong. I drove home, passing cars that had no drivers nor passengers. Now I'm at my computer. I don't really know who's going to hear this, but I felt compelled to get this out there. Something is going to happen today. When I turned on the local news, they were talking about tonight's meter shower.

They had shots of vendors setting up booths and people donning shirts with sparkling stars. Interestingly, the contacts don't work over camera. I discovered that, even through the lens of my camera, I could see people as they were. Solid. The news cut to the meteorologist who commented on the meteor story. Folks, isn't it amazing how our atmosphere protects us? If it wasn't there, the space debris that's going to create this beautiful light show for us to night would instead be terrifying. Now, onto the weather. And suddenly, it clicked. The little

old lady from the grocery store was proof that at least some would survive. But the reason why everyone was invisible wasn't because these new contacts were different from the last pair. They were still showing me when people were going to die. It was just that everyone was about to go. Well, everyone in town at least. I wondered if there was anything I could do If there was any warning I could sin that would save them And well Even if there was a way I could evacuate my whole city

Maybe my entire state Even if people listened to me The thought of trying to do so Left a sour taste in my mouth It felt like going against fate It's nearly midnight The meteor shower will start in just a few hours I could get in my car, pick a destination and speed away

I might even get away from whatever is coming next But I made a promise to Anne After I post this I'm going to take my six-pack Place Anne's urn in the passenger seat of my car And then drive to Shady Oaks I'll sit on the trunk of my car with Anne beside me And we'll share a cigarette

Just like we always do I'll look up at the sky waiting for the meteor shower to start.