Eyes of Yellow
A Macabre Monday: Sepulchral Roots story.
Waves lapped at the white shore, though the dusky haze made it look gray. They came and went with their characteristic woosh and hiss. These sounds were familiar to anyone who lived near the ocean, the kind of white noise which bred in them a sense of serene calm and made them feel at home.
For Eli Jennings, it was anything but.
It shouldn’t have been so unsettling, especially in these circumstances. Yes, the early evening had turned a dark, cloudy gray, but that didn’t change the fact that he was here on what should’ve been the vacation of a lifetime! Okay, perhaps Hawaii wasn’t quite as luxurious as a trip to the Bahamas, but Eli was a Montana ranch hand who never had much to his name anyway. For him, that beachfront hut they rented might as well have been the penthouse suite of the Ritz Carlton. Was it small? Yeah, but he couldn’t have asked for a better honeymoon spot. Besides, Jeannie liked it, and that was reason enough for the old goat to put his unease aside.
At least, it was when she was alongside him. Right now she was inside mixing up a couple of those too-sweet Tiki drinks she liked so much. He didn’t remember what kind it was, just that it had something to do with ties. The flavors of those drinks were never much to his liking, but at least the rum was good and strong. He could use strong rum about now, to distract him from the woosh and hiss, from the white foam that seeped back into black waters that stretched into charcoal darkness.
What was hiding in there, behind all those clouds and waves? Had to be something. Nothing like monsters, he wasn’t some kid with an overactive imagination, but maybe a ship? He didn’t know. Maybe it was nothing at all and his head was playing tricks on him. He didn’t actually see anything back there, but even so he could’ve sworn…
Clack.
Eli sucked in a sharp breath, not quite startled, but on the brink of it.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Jeannie said as she sank into a woven wicker lounge chair beside him. The chair matched his own, and the only thing separating them was a squat round table that now held his orange-ish drink. “You okay, hon?”
Eli looked to her with a soft smile and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit…” Nervous. Frightened. Terrified of what’s hiding under all that churning blackness. “I’m fine.”
Jeannie pressed her lips into a thin line, then looked out at the ocean. The wind started to kick up some, causing her auburn hair and that shear pink sarong she was wearing to pick up and whip against the chair, the table, and herself. She was beautiful. Even in that dark gray haze she seemed to glow with her fair skin and lustrous hair. Not to mention those eyes, beautiful and green. Her amazing figure didn’t hurt, either. Thin waisted and well endowed, with a peachy behind and legs so long that-
Woosh. Hiss.
She was touching him. He felt her hand on his, squeezing, and he was squeezing back. God, when did he start doing that? For that matter, when did she turn the outside lamp on? He took a gulp of his drink. It was thick, icy, overly sweet. Distracting. He gulped it again.
“Something’s wrong, Eli,” Jeannie was saying.
He shook his head. “I’m fine, really,” he replied, turning to give her that same smile that won her over when they met a couple years ago. Based on the way her brow knotted and the worried grimace she took on, it didn’t work.
With a heavy sigh he set the drink on the table, then turned so he was sitting on the edge of his lounge, facing her with his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s the ocean,” he said with a shrug. “Makes me nervous I guess.”
She smiled and snickered a little. “Is that all?” she chimed. “Why didn’t you tell me it made you so nervous? We could’ve gone somewhere else.”
Eli shrugged. “Didn’t know,” he said. “Never been to the ocean before. Didn’t know I’d find it so…”
“Creepy?” she finished for him, after a long pause.
“I guess. Doesn’t quite feel like that, but it’s close enough,” he murmured.
She didn’t snicker this time. Instead, she looked at him with those pretty green eyes of hers full of compassion and understanding. That’s what made him fall for her, that kindness, that loyalty. She cared, genuinely. She wanted to support him, and in turn, that made him want to put his all into supporting her. That’s why he took on extra hours at the ranch, putting more sweat and soreness into his work despite pushing fifty than he ever had in his twenties.
Age difference was another part of it. Jeannie was thirty-two, fifteen years younger than he was. Granted, it wasn’t the sort of stark difference you’d sometimes hear about, with nineteen-year-olds marrying guys his age or older. That always struck him as weird. Even so, that difference of more than a decade was a sticking point with her family, especially with her mom, who was just a few years older than Eli. His sincerity won her over, though, and he got on great with her dad. For two people who’d been single for as long as they’d been, their relationship turned out to be the sort of fairytale that neither of them believed possible.
Yet here they were, sitting outside a beach shack in Hawaii and awaiting the start of the island’s Lantern Festival. That was one of the big reasons why Jeannie wanted to come out here, apart from all the swimming and sunshine and good weather, of course. Eli had never heard of it until she told him about it. Apparently, a bunch of paper lanterns were lit up and floated into the ocean as part of the local Memorial Day celebrations. He didn’t look too deep into it, but it sounded like a nice way of showing respect to the men and women who gave up their lives serving their country. Far as they knew, it was supposed to happen tonight. Yet as the dusk turned to night, the charcoal clouds grew thicker and darker.
“You sure they’re gonna do that lantern thing tonight?” he asked, situating himself back on his lounge. He realized his plain white t-shirt was glowing yellow in the light of the outside lamp.
Jeannie turned away from him and rummaged through a pack he couldn’t see. When she laid back, she had a brochure for the event folded out in both hands. “Yep. Says it’s supposed to start at seven tonight,” she said.
“Wonder if they’ll postpone on account of the fog,” Eli hummed, and he took another glug of the slushy drink. It was already thawing; the night air was still warm despite the heavy clouds and building sea wind.
He grimaced and smacked his lips. “What’s this thing called again?” he asked, setting the too-sweet drink back on the table.
“It’s a Mai Tai,” Jeannie giggled, giving Eli a playful smack on the shoulder. “And it’s good.”
“Tastes like I’m drinking Froot Loops,” he said.
She gave a gasp of faux outrage. “Eli Thomas Jennings, you take that back! My Mai Tai does not taste like Froot Loops!”
“Alright, alright,” Eli laughed. “Fine, it don’t taste like Froot Loops. It tastes like Trix, and you know who they say Trix’re made for.”
Jeannie snorted her laughter as she sipped at her own Mai Tai. “Pretty sure the cops’d look down on us giving Mai Tais to kids.”
“Yeah, but it’d sure make them kids happy,” he quipped. Then he kicked his legs over the edge and stood up. “Me, though? I could use a beer. Or some whiskey. They got any whiskey in that little bottle box in there?”
She snorted again. Smirking, she raised an eyebrow at him as he walked by. “You mean the mini bar?”
He returned the smirk. “Mini bar. Bottle box. Same damned thing.”
Rolling her eyes, Jeannie shook her head. “No, I didn’t see any whiskey in there.”
“Beer it is then!” Eli announced joyously as he stepped inside.
The beach shack wasn’t so different from the little rent-a-cabins he’d used with some of his friends back when they used to take trips to Appalachia or the Grand Tetons. Single room and spacious, it was a little bit bigger than those campsite rentals, though that might be due to the fact it only had a single king-sized bed pushed up against the wall as opposed to squeezing two bunks in there. The mini bar, or bottle box as he liked to tease Jeannie by calling it, was situated under a little mahogany drink counter that stood out wrongly against the pale wood slats that made up the walls. It was a nice little counter, though, trimmed in brass and lacquered to a brilliant shine. He might have to see about making something like it at some point, and not just for the convenience of the built-in bottle opener that he was currently using.
Gripping the bottle by its neck, Eli fitted the cap into the opener and gave the top of it a good smack. The cap popped off with a
Hiss. Woosh. Hiss.
Something touched his feet. Cold. Tingling. Wet. Like foamy seawater.
Eli’s tongue went dry in his mouth. His heart thudded and thumped in his chest, ears, and head. He was looking out at the ocean again, at white foam exhumed by black water. At charcoal clouds and fog that split the horizon with the subtle difference of black above, and blacker below. Again, he felt like something was out there, on the water. Something he could sense, but couldn’t see.
Wait, no. He could see something. Yellow spots, all along the horizon, like the winking lights of fireflies or burning candles. Crap, did they float the lanterns already? Jeannie was gonna be pissed that he didn’t see it with her after promising-
“Eli? Eli?!”
Eli blinked. He was inside the shack, looking right at Jeannie as she stood inside the frame of the beachside door. She looked worried, and for some reason he still felt that seawater around his feet. Looking down, he saw the broken bottle and the beer which spilled out from it.
“Sunnova bitch,” he groaned. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up right now.”
“Don’t worry,” Jeannie repeated with a huff. “You’re not making that easy, Eli. Something’s wrong, really wrong. I can tell.”
Eli stubbornly shook his head. Nothing was wrong, his nerves were just frayed was all. He wasn’t used to the ocean, that was it. Nothing more. “I’m fine,” he said sternly as he dropped a towel on the spill.
“You’re not, hon,” Jeannie insisted. She stepped through the threshold and knelt down with him as he started to sop up the beer and gather the broken glass. Then she reached out and caressed his cheek, running her fingers through his salt-and-pepper beard. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Eli chewed his lower lip and glowered at the still damp floorboards and glittering brown glass. He shrugged.
“Baby, you need to tell me something,” Jeannie insisted. “You’re starting to scare me. Is it being outside? We can stay in here if that’s easier for you.”
“I don’t know!” Eli barked, and he hurled the towel at the opposite wall. It hit the resort facing door with a wet thwap.
Jeannie recoiled, and Eli’s frustration immediately turned to apologetic shock. “Jeannie, I’m sorry,” he quickly stammered out. “I don’t know what came over me, I just…”
He paused and took a deep breath. This wasn’t like him, not at all. He didn’t scare like this. He wouldn’t. Huffing out a sigh, he took a step back and sat on the bed. “Maybe you’re right and I should stay inside for a bit,” he said.
Jeannie was still unsettled, still uneasy. It showed in her face and the way she held her arm up across her chest. She’d never seen Eli act that way before. Hell, Eli had never seen himself act like that. So he took another deep breath, then looked up at her and gave her that smile she liked so much. It worked this time, or started to, anyway.
“I’m fine, really,” he reassured her. “Least ways, I will be. Think I’ll spend a bit of time in here and listen to the radio some, then you can call me when they do the lantern thing. How’s that sound?”
Jeannie nodded slowly. “We can do that,” she said, her voice small. “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”
He looked her in the eye and nodded. “I’m alright, yes. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You know that, right? I’m just on edge, I guess.”
“But why?” she asked. “I mean, I know you said the ocean’s bothering you, but this is a bit much.”
“I know, sweetie. I won’t let it get to me again, I promise,” he said.
She looked away, arms crossed over her body, biting her lip in uncertainty. Eli knew why. She was thinking of her cousin, Addison.1 Of how she’d lost it when working on one of those weird film projects of hers and ended up under psychiatric supervision. A pang of guilt gripped him. By giving into his own fears, he’d tapped into hers.
He stood, took her gently by the shoulders, and gave her the warmest and most confident smile he could manage. “It’s not gonna be like that,” he said. “I’ll get over my nerves, and when I do we’ll enjoy the lantern thing together.”
Finally, she nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice weak at first, but strengthening as she continued. “Okay. You get yourself another beer and relax in here, and I’ll clean up the mess.”
Eli protested at first, insisting that he should clean it since he made it, but Jeannie wouldn’t have it. Caring as she was, she intended to make sure he was as good and comfortable as possible before she headed back outside.
He kissed her firmly, then rested his brow against hers and smiled as he looked into her bright green eyes. “Sweetest thing in the world,” he said. “God’s been good to me, bringing you into my life.”
“He’s been good to us both,” she said, squeezing his hand. Then she smirked and pressed a fresh beer to his chest. “Now lay down and relax. I’ll let you know once the lantern festival starts.”
Eli was all to happy to oblige her. Popping the new bottle open, he tipped it back and took a large swig. Then he laid back on the bed, sinking a little into the firm mattress, and turned the radio on. Buzzing static came through at first, and he turned the dial until he heard distorted voices. A couple slight adjustments and the professional lilt of a lady news anchor came through clearly.
“…released new information regarding last month’s tragic offshore drilling disaster. EPA investigators have found evidence that a major impact may have caused a chain reaction which resulted in the catastrophic explosion that claimed the lives of 200 offshore workers. Representatives from Atlantic Energy Company…”2
“Hell no,” Eli muttered, quickly changing the station. The last thing he wanted to listen to right now was anything having to do with oceanic disasters. Maybe he could find a classic rock station or something.
He worked the dial. Static spilled from the speaker in scratching sound. It scraped in time with the woosh and hiss, building on it, merging with it. Together they formed a strangely sonorous cacophony that droned in his ears and scraped across the inside of his skull like millions of tiny, skittering legs. He stared at the dial, at the soft yellow glow of the retro styled frequency gauge. The little red needle wobbled slightly, shifting back and forth between FM 99.7 and 99.8.
He stared at the light. The softly flickering yellow, like distant flame. The needle was its heart. His guide. It would lead him to the message lying beneath, the truth of that sonorous droning below the woosh, the hiss, and the scratch.
He turned left, and the needle sank down towards 6. The droning grew.
Then the needle hit 6, and the droning faded, so he turned right.
It grew again, and as he crept to 7, it faded once more.
Back toward 6.
Back and forth the needle wavered. It moved as if caught in a churning tide, pushed back and forth by the will of the sound and the guidance of his hand. From 7 to 6. To 7, then 6 again. Repeat. Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Back.
Forth.
Follow.
Light.
Hear.
Listen.
See.
Know.
Smaller motions.
Smaller shifts.
Precise guidance.
The needle wobbled. The speaker warbled. Sonorous song came through, deep hums and musical drones. Whales, Eli realized. They sounded like whales. Through the speaker, he heard them. Through the dial, he saw their light, flickering flames reflected in glass.
Reflected?
He turned around, looked out the door. White foam exhumed by black water against a charcoal clouded sky. A horizon split, black above and blacker below. Yellow lights, like tiny, winking flames. Like fireflies dancing in the night. Distant. Drifting. They floated upon the horizon’s edge, carried by the water through the clouds. He watched them, followed them. Lanterns that led. Fireflies that danced. Eyes that watched.
Eyes of yellow, with twisted pupils. Blazing yellow flame with a core of white.
White foam exhumed by black water against a charcoal sky.
A horizon split, black above and blacker below.
Yellow lights like tiny, winking flames.
Like fireflies dancing in the night.
Distant.
Drifting.
Drawing nearer.
Nearer.
Lanterns that led.
Fireflies that danced.
Eyes that watched.
Eyes of yellow with twisted pupils.
Blazing yellow flame with a core of white.
Eyes that watched.
Eyes of yellow.
Eyes of flame.
They burned.
See them, Eli.
See them.
How sweetly they burn.
Do you feel it? Do you see?
Do you know?
Know, Eli.
Follow, Eli.
Eli.
“Eli!”
“ELI!”
He knew.
He heard.
The sonorous song called to him. The yellow lanterns led him. To his fear, for it must be faced.
It must be faced.
Man, you should definitely write romance. Pretty please?☺️
Thank you for the eerily romantic vibes.🩶
Very nice!