Eyes (Short Story, only one part)

So, I wrote this one a few weeks back and hadn't remembered to put it up here until now. For those of you who may have read the manga Parasyte at some point, this'll make maybe a little more sense, since I based some of it off that.


John remembered this dream, or ones like it. Today was the fifth anniversary of when he started having this dream. As always, he woke up tied to a chair, arms at his side. The chair was the one he sat at in his dining room, just a generic chair. He had been in dentist’s chairs and thrones with sharp edges. But today, he felt an empty space at the back of the chair where there was usually a slat.
Looking up from the chair, John saw the man he always saw, who looked a little like him, but better. He walked back and forth a few feet away with an iron rod in one hand, a hammer in the other. Turning his head, John saw a forge and an anvil. This didn’t look good. The light that came from nowhere and everywhere, as is usual in a dream, hurt his eyes tonight.
“What are you going to do with that piece of iron?” John asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
The man didn’t respond; instead, he placed the rod in the forge until it was white-hot, then put it on the anvil and started to hammer the end into a sharp point. John saw no bucket of water to cool the metal. No, this looked downright bad.
Open your damned eyes, body, for once, John thought. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open. Openopenopenopenopen…
Stepping close to John, the man spoke: “You have committed a crime.”
“What crime is that?”
“Child neglect, and attempted murder,” the man said.
Bringing his arm back, the man took the iron poker he created and thrust it into John’s belly, waiting a few moments before taking it out. John emitted a scream.
“I wanted—” thrust in “—to be friends.” Pull out “You—” thrust in “—left me alone.” Pull out
John moaned. “Who are you?”
“A creature—” thrust in “—of your dreams.” Pull out
“An alien? A parasite?”
The man stared John in the eyes. “The second one. I was,” thrust in “your eyes.”
“Some parasite,” John said, gasping as his body withered on the inside from the burns, “who kills their host. Let me open my eyes, or I’ll die here, and you will too.”
“You will recover from the pain,” the man said, twisting the poker around in John’s stomach.
“I’ll be a vegetable mentally. And you will be left to die, stuck inside a breathing corpse.”
“Why don’t you want to be my friend?”
“I can’t live in the world of dreams forever. You’ve damned yourself, parasite. Damned…”
Everything faded.