A Hundred Eyes
Casimir Pitsudski would not stop working.
He refused to look back at the one-eyed creature until he was done.
With each mark of charcoal, he felt the monster’s rhythm of inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale on the back of his neck. Sweat poured down his face as if a thousand steaming kettles were going off at once. It took every ounce of will to remain conscious.
With each mark, it became clearer why the beast hadn’t snatched him. Why it was called the monster with a hundred eyes. Why it hadn’t done to him what it did to Sylwia.
His canvas, a tiny portion of gray stone among vast cavern walls, came together slowly. A nearly empty lamp of oil provided the only illumination. Casimir fought to maintain focus and forget the fate of his recently-met companion, yet at the same tim
