A short while ago, my sunglasses deserted me. They'd been trying to get swept away in water for some time, and as they'd gotten quite badly scratched, I was really only keeping them out of sentimental value. There was also the fact that I didn't feel like spending money on a new pair of sunglasses, but as has been demonstrated in the month or so since they've been gone, I'm fully capable of avoiding that by simply not buying a replacement pair.

Over the weekend, this fiscal responsibility started to seem like something of a poor plan, as the sun kept getting into my eyes while I was driving. Just as it was starting to get really unpleasant, though, I spotted a pair of sunglasses in the pocket of one of the doors in the backseat. I thanked whichever of my friends had left them there, and put them on.

The sunglasses were fairly nondescript; they had black-and-silver frames with no identifying markings except the word "CHINA" on the left earpiece. The lenses were a bit scratched, as if something tiny had been clawing at them. However, they kept the sun out of my eyes, so I wasn't about to complain about a minor defect like that. The demons, however, were another matter.

I'd had the glasses on for perhaps fifteen minutes when I first noticed something black slithering by just at the edge of my peripheral vision on the right side. When I turned my head, it was gone, and though I tried to make it recur my twisting my head and shifting my eyes, nothing made the shape show up again. After a while, I dismissed it as something outside of the car, and forgot about it.

Forgot about it, that is, until it showed up again a few minutes later, this time sliding past the left edge of my sight. Again, it was gone too quickly for me to focus on it, and refused to recur despite my vigorous efforts. I was left with only a vague impression of something dark and coily, like a narrow oil slick moving with purpose. It was mildly unnerving, but the sun was still low on the horizon, so I left the sunglasses on.

The shapes kept reappearing at irregular intervals, for as long as I wore the glasses. More unsettling was the time when I was walking from the car to a convenience store, and heard clicking footsteps echoing my own, which stopped when I stopped and started again when I resumed. An examination of the sole of my shoe revealed the cause to be a tiny rock stuck in the tread -- but how did that rock get there? While "demons" may not be the first answer to come to your mind, you weren't wearing these sunglasses, either.

So, to whomever left these in my car: I have your sunglasses, and also your demons. Please feel free to come pick them up at your earliest convenience; they seem quite anxious to have you back.

Mood of the Moment: concerned
Auditory Hallucination: Ceann -- Blame the Viking