Draw it, and write about it!

warning: i have no idea how this turned into a story about evil and the end of mankind, and i dont like it anymore thn the narrator.

'Johnson's eyes were always half lidded, or downcast. But he was never mistaken for shy or violent, and once a person had made initial the assesment of "jeez, if i had polka-dotted eyes id' keep 'em shut to" was made, strangers never bothered to analyze Johnson. And he was, to everyone i guess, a stranger.

I know i never though about him when he supervised in my building, and we walked to work the same way. Now i think about him just about every godamn day. i think of him the way a child thinks of monsters, trying not to , but inevitably my mind throws the images at me. Am i paranoid? is this really what the future holds?

I dont remember those dotted eyes darting around in shame turning into the still, unforgiving glare. But it doesnt matter, we wont let him win his war. Humanity has never lost before and well beat that freak. i dont feel bad for him, never have and i dont care much what anyone says. Hes threatened my children by god, and' crunch
Johnson fisted the torn paper and stared into a wall. "the homosapien experiment has peaked, Fellows. And since emotional progress has halted, its time to put them out, i suppose." His eyes rolled downcast.