Stare Deep Into the Ever-Widening Eyes
–Of the hare. Wet, still as death. What does it see in those tear-drop eyes, those maddening eyes that grow wider and wider, as the hare crouches lower and lower?
Those eyes are so full you feel as if they could burst. If they were to simply implode, the weight of that hare’s own personal, mounting horror would be released.
And then what?
If there is no fear for the creature, what would be left for it? Those unsettling eyes–what would they be filled with then? If the fear were to dry up like the rain, what next?