They were a part of him. They were round and completely black, so that the only person that could see through them was the one wearing them. They covered up most of his face allowing only a little cheek and nose to show before ending over his non-moving mouth. His lips had almost no color in them and barely twitched when he talked, and that was a rare occasion. His face was like a stone sculpture; it stayed still all day and when night came long and empty shadows fell across it. On his head he wore a black fedora which he tilted at a slight angle to reveal some black and well cut hair. Under his face was a long and pale neck, but half of it was always covered by a black dress shirt. A white tie would swing robotically on his shirt with every step he took. The tie would occasionally be covered by a grey or white blazer that would flap around when the man walked. His shirt was tucked into straight black and white pants, and he would wear black dress shoes under that. He was the least colorful person in town; being pale, tall, and only wearing different variations of black, white, and grey. Everyone else had either sunburn or a tan and would wear worn out farm clothes with no distinct taste or color. He was like a painted cartoon compared to the farmers that dotted this little town, and every time he walked there was an unearthly contrast in the color of the place.
Rumors and myths started surfacing about what could be behind his sunglasses, and if it might be dangerous. The priest said that he hides Satan in his eyes. The librarian said he has lazar vision. The sheriff said he was too scared to reveal his identity because he was an escaped convict. All of their stories ended in one single line; ‘the Sunglass Man is dangerous, and we outta get rid ‘o’ him quick.’
But after hearing all these strange stories, I began to think. Maybe he is hiding Satan, maybe he is a superhero, and maybe he is an escaped convict. Or, maybe he’s just misunderstood.
That day was the day that I would uncover the mystery of the Sunglass Man. The townsfolk thought I was too ambitious and came to the conclusion that I was just as bonkers as him. I came out of my rusty old motel room that day with my bag swinging at my side and my eyes peeled for this myth of a man. I walked to the only café in town, thirsting for my morning coffee.
There was only a handful of people in the place; three road workers at the bar were drinking there ninth beers (in the morning?) and laughing like hyenas. There was an old couple sitting in the corner booth having a brunch and shooting quirky love stories at each other. A young boy was standing near the record player, trying to decide whether to play The Wolverines or Johnny Hodges. And then there was me; also an outsider with my modern clothes and short hair. All the ladies of the town looked at me funny whenever I walked by and would whisper something. I didn’t mind it. As a matter of fact, I didn’t mind anything in this town at all. I just knew not to get distracted from my mission; the Sunglass Man.
“Good morning,” I said half-heartedly to the man behind the counter. He had to be the nicest person in town with his jolly face and cheerful personality. If he wouldn’t be behind that bar every day I came in here to get my hopes back up and my journal refreshed, I would have given up a long time ago and pursued another career. The bartender took in my appearance. It seemed that every day I became more and more tired, and looked more and more worn out. Today I had given up brushing my thick blonde hair. My green eyes were bloodshot; at least that’s what it felt like. I was in a constant state of too little sleep and crazed ambition, which freaked the townsfolk out. But not Kimberly.
“Ah, good morning, Kimmy! How’d ya sleep?” He turned to me with his giant grin. His name was Kimberly (believe it or not) and he found a liking in me when he found out my name was also Kimberly, but shunned me when I told him I prefer Kim. We had made a happy agreement for him to call me Kimmy, and he had never faltered his smile after that.
“I slept fine,” I said as he gave me my regular order. “Thank you.” He winked at me and waltzed over to the three drunks at the other end of the bar. I sipped my coffee as I watched him politely kick the drunken men out of the bar. They had put up a fight first, but they seemed a little too tipsy to argue so they shuffled out. Once the road workers were long gone Kimberly waltzed back to me.
“I was wonderin’ to myself the other night how long you were plannin’ on stayin’ in this ol’ town.” He said. “I mean, what do you, a well-meanin’ journalist from the big city, find so fascinatin’ about this place?” He began to rub the counter with his rag.
I laughed a little at this as I took another sip of my coffee. “I’m here on business and business only.” Kimberly leaned in closer to me and motioned for me to proceed. “I’m here to write about the Sunglass Man!”
Kimberly jumped back dramatically. “Honey-pa,” He began to say. “The Sunglass Man? How stubborn can ya get?” Kimberly was chuckling now, shaking his head in disbelief.
I was taken aback by this. “Well I’m sorry that you feel that way.” I got up, leaving the unfinished coffee on the counter. “It seems that,” I walked towards the door triumphantly. “No one in this town has a real sense of purpose, or at least curiosity.” I began to open the door, making a show of it to Kimberly who was still giggling quietly. “Good day,” I slammed the door behind me for extra emphasis.
I began to turn right but got cut off by someone. We collided and I got sent back a couple steps. As I recovered I could see that the man I bumped into was already walking in the other direction, hurrying to get away from me.
“Sir!” I called after him. He didn’t reply and kept walking faster. “Sir, could you hold on a moment?” He stopped for a second giving me time to catch up to him. He kept his head low as I stepped in front of him.
Then I realized who I had bumped into. My eyes widened in awe as the Sunglass Man hurried away from me again. I was left on the deserted sidewalk, speechless, and staring like an idiot. I watched the man disappear behind the market, and I begin to follow him. I fished out my journal and began record what had happened as I jogged down the flat sidewalk and to the corner which he had turned. Stopping for a moment, I jotted down my few notes and turned the corner abruptly.
The sidewalk broke here into a gravel path leading to the back of the market where the products would get loaded out of boxes. There was a brick building on the opposite side of the alleyway with decaying bricks and random things etched into it. The sky was darkened in this place, due to the abandoned balconies across the walls of the brick building. There were puddles surrounding empty barrels that lined the edge of the alley. Wooden cartons stood on the sides as well, but all the lids were on so I couldn’t tell what was in them. The loading garage was closed at that moment, so the alley was deserted except for the Sunglass Man, who was standing at the end of it facing a blockaded doorway in the edge of the brick building.
I crept down the alley, not looking back at all to see if I was being followed by the usual cloud of women who would make fun and gossip about me. My footsteps didn’t make much sound against the uneven gravel, so I walked faster. I was crouching now, trying to move fast while also staying down and out of the vision of the Sunglass Man. He was concentrating on something in his hand, which meant he was distracted. When I was almost twenty feet away from him, he must have sensed someone behind him as he turned around. He almost caught me, but I had ducked behind a crate just in time. He scanned the area unhappily, and then turned back to whatever was in his hand.
The man had taken off his blazer and had rolled up his black dress shirt’s sleeves. His vest was exposed as well, but it added no color to the black and white figure. His arms were finally exposed, pale and thin, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had far more pressing matters on his mind.
He gazed unwillingly at the little trinket in his hands. His hand was tensing at the hard and cold structure of it. The trinket felt like a piece of marble; smooth and elegant at first sight but when touched it turns stiff. It may have looked beautiful, but it held something far worse inside. Inside was the thing the Sunglass Man was scared of most. The thing that not only haunted him, but every human alive today.
The man stiffened his shoulders and slowly snapped the cap off of the small trinket. His shoulders were rising and falling slowly and his knees were shaking. The trinket in his hand slipped onto the ground, and he did the same. It was a mirror image; a broken machine and a broken man.
I held my breath as he shook silently on the ground. He was holding the trinket again, and this time he raised to his face. I could see what it was; it was a small locket with a mirror on the inside. The mirror had a crack at the very top of it, but it didn’t affect the reflection shown in it.  He was hiding his face with his other hand. I could see little droplets run down his cheeks and splash onto the ground. His hat had fallen off and was lying beside him, overturned.
I got up and began to move towards the Sunglass Man. I didn’t notice that I was walking on gravel and was making noise to break the silence, so I was startled when he snapped around. He kicked some gravel into the air and jumped back against the wall. He was hiding his face from me and fingering for the trinket on the ground. I had fallen back too, and was now getting up again.
“Why did you follow me?” He grunted. I began backing away from him, reaching for my bag strap.
  “I didn’t,” I stuttered. “I didn’t,” The Sunglass Man was obviously scared of me. He was cowering away from me. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew exactly what he was feeling. He was exposed now, something he hadn’t been in a while. His frame was broken; he was fragile under the guard he had built. He seemed so helpless at that moment, but I knew that this man would not let me help him.
“Why did you follow me?” He shouted again. He was trembling, and covering his face with his arm, shielding his eyes from me. I crept closer and got down on all fours. I crawled the rest of the way until I was crouching across from him. He was wound up in a trembling knot of black and white clothes.
I reached my hand out slowly, not to scare him, as one would do to a new born, and I touched his cold forearm. He flinched and scooted further away from me, burrowing his face into his arm. I could see tears roll down to his chin then drop onto the gravel.
I stayed where I was, with my arm stretched out, and leaned in a little closer. This time he did not react when my hand landed on his forearm. He kept trembling, but I focused my grip and began to pull his arm away from his face. I was bracing myself for what I might see; red eyes, lasers, or the devil himself. But maybe they were just normal eyes, and he was just scared of what they had seen. He could have hid them so that no one would know what he saw, and the curiosity of humans could have gotten the best of them and they began thinking up reasons for his life in the dark. Humans were scared of sunglasses. Inanimate objects, their imaginations creating different stories. They thought the worst about him. Why? Why do people always think the worst of the best? This world is full of pessimists, but the optimists exist too. I am one. That’s why I became a journalist; to expect the best and go into the situation head on and un-doubting. I’ve met many optimists, but they are always overpowered by the pessimists. The optimists are a bright light not scared of shining through the dark, but the pessimists are a type of weak light that could succumb to the dark in a matter of seconds. I wondered, after all this negativity, is the Sunglass Man light? Or darkness?
I brought down his arm like a curtain. In his hand he was grasping the handle of the sunglasses he was infamous for. Before I knew it I was inching away from the sight before me, with my mouth hanging open and my eyes, my eyes were open wide. His eyes, however…
“What happened to you?” I uttered.
The man leaned back and leveled his face. I could see his features clearer now, and I only will to describe them for the sake of this story.
Instead of red eyes, lasers, or Satan, were two big black holes. At the bottom of each hole was a small pool as clear as a lake on a windless day. They were spilling, creating droplets that rolled over his cheeks. The sockets were tilted up towards the bridge of his nose. Everything seemed to make sense now; the sunglasses, the isolation, and the aloof character he had created to serve as a wall. I had foolishly broken the wall, do to my undying curiosity.
The reflecting pools shuttered again and new tears rolled down the man’s cheeks. I looked in bewilderment at the reflecting pools. They might have been shaking and sending ripples through them, but they were also showing something in them. I tilted my head so that I could see the gravity defying reflecting pools that existed in the man’s eyes. I saw a face. And looking closer, I saw my face.
I had as many questions as an overly curious journalist should have, but I could not say a word. I dropped my pen and my journal, which flipped open on its back, and slid my bag off my shoulder. I had forgotten all about my responsibility to report this human wonder. I was stuck in that position, staring at that man, and the man staring peculiarly back at me. We froze like this for an endless amount of time until I broke the silence with a gasp.
“Expecting something different, weren’t you?” The man said quietly. I shook my head no.
“I wasn’t expecting anything at all.” I replied. The man was bringing his knees up to his face, and bent his head so that his strange eyes were out of sight. I could not stand him hiding like this, so I put my hand on his smooth hair. He flinched but relaxed a little. He was just like a new puppy; scared at first of who might be taking care of him, but after finding the trust in someone he would drop the tough guard and unveil the truth. As I sat there, unsure if I should have been scared of this person, if that was what he even was, I began to think about this man’s strangely beautiful eyes. Has he always had such a gift? Or was he given those clear pools that seemed to reflect not only a face but a soul when looked upon? Is that why he avoided contact with all the other townsfolk, but opened up just a little to me? Could he see the inside of people? Questions were crowding my awe-stricken mind as I looked at this mystery. All of them seemed to be screaming nonsense at me, and I didn’t understand a thing except for one question; who is he?
So I asked.
“Who are you?”
The man bent his head low, sighed, and lifted his head again as his reflecting pools stopped leaking over the bridges of his sockets. He watched me as I saw myself in the reflecting pools.
“Can you see me?” I asked, crawling closer to the Sunglass Man. I suddenly felt an urge to get my journal, but I quickly stowed it away into the depths of my mind. I didn’t care, but I should have cared. I should have kept my journal by my side because he would…
The man lifted his head higher and faced me directly. We sat in yet another frozen moment, and then his mouth began to slowly open.
“I am a fantasy.” He whispered. “But, I was once real,” He wiped a socket with his sleeve and let his hand rest on his lap. “I had a name,” he turned to me and his pools began to leak again. His face had an expression of obvious pain. “I had a life. It was not my fault that I became like, like this!” he said. He gulped down tears, and then continued with his story, completely ignoring my presence. “The thing about humans is that they destroy anything they are scared of. They were scared of my eyes, so they destroyed them. My eyes could see people. I could see like nobody else could.”
“What happened?” I asked, stupidly and regretting the moment it left my mouth.
The Sunglass Man didn’t seem to notice, and he kept going. “You took em’.” He said simply. I could feel my heart break. He had been robbed of his gift by us, people, because we didn’t know what it was. We took his heart away from him. How could he survive with that?
“I don’t know your name, and I don’t know why you find such interest in me,” He began to say. “But you must be the damn most ambitious person I know. Chasing me like that? And not being scared?” he shook his head in sad disbelief.
I sat right next to him, our shoulders almost rubbing. I wanted to touch him, comfort him, but I was scared. I didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m not scared of what I don’t know.” I replied.
“And that is a gift I wish all humans had.” He finished. “You see,” he turned away from me, staring at the opposite wall. “People think they are human. But in the end, creatures like you and I, we are the most human out all.” He was clenching his fists, his veins pulsing and his knuckles whitening.
I watched this man unwind silently.
“They took my eyes and gave me these. Now all I see is my own hideous reflection and the hideousness in everyone else.” Tears rolled down his cheeks as his cover broke. “And you were the first person that I had seen in a long time that didn’t scare me,” he was cut off by waves of tears. He buried his head in his knees and shook silently.
Write his story. Get away, he’s still dangerous! Don’t let your heart get to you, Kim. Come on, this is your big break! Since when do journalists have hearts? Just write the story and get away from him, he could hurt you!
The Sunglass Man’s head was still bent low. I looked at him unwillingly, being torn apart by the two sides of I brain. I was in an angel/devil situation; one side telling me to write my story and give up the trust I had harbored in the man, letting him down, and hurting him. The other side was telling me to stay, to learn about him, understand him, and forget the story. Humanity is more important than money, isn’t it? Being a journalist can bring you fame, money, and a good life. But humanity is good for the heart and mind, and just makes you a better person. At that moment, however, money seemed more realistic.
I could hear the Sunglass Man breathing in deep breaths, still hiding his strange eyes (or whatever they could be called) and forgetting about me for a second. I squeezed my eyes shut, internally deciding to write that story after all, to betray him whatever it meant. I needed that money, I needed that big break. I needed the story to live a better life.
So, as slowly and quietly as I could possibly manage, I began to change my position to a small crouch, leaning away from the crying man. Crawling towards my bag, I could feel the gravel snap and crack under my feet. It was as if the ground was being extra loud, just to expose my selfishness to the man. I cursed it quietly, reaching my bag without disturbing the man.
I picked the journal up from the ground and placed it on my lap, as cautiously as possible.  I fished the pen out from under some gravel, licked it, and braced it over the black pages. Occasionally glancing at the man to see if he had caught me or not, and as quiet as possible, I began to scribble my notes. I could feel my hand shaking against the pen. I was doing something wrong. I should not betray the man. He isn’t a freak show I should be advertising, but a great phenomenon that should not be judged on what we, humans, did to him. The notes scribbled onto the paper as if the pen had a mind of its own. I was still battling myself.
I wrote:
  7.7.1924
He is real. The legend is true, and then some…
I had finished jotting the description of the Sunglass Man when I felt the world stop. Someone was watching me, through eyes not fully human. I could feel my body stiffen, paralyze from the anxiety that seemed to coarse through my veins. I froze on the gravel.
He trusts me, Kim. How could you? How could you let him down like that? You didn’t make it better for yourself, you stupid liar. You just bought your ticket to eternal regret.
“You filthy, lying, human, b****.” A voice all too familiar said from behind. My pen dropped to the ground, bouncing off the gravel. My journal slid off my knees, closing. The silence tore at my heart like two clawed hands ripping a piece of meat off an animal. I was an animal. A stupid animal that could not help but be human and only care for itself.
I could hear gravel crackling behind me and heavy, rough breathing. My breath was reduced to a small squeak, my heart daring to escape my chest. The Sunglass Man was behind me. He was going to kill me.
“You filthy, lying, human!” He yelled at me, his eyes creasing at the bottoms and his reflecting pools flooding out. “You filthy, lying, human! You filthy, lying, human!”
Two strong hands closed in on my shoulders and I released a small scream. I was thrown back against the hard gravel, my knees scraped. I lay on the ground; frozen, paralyzed, too shocked to say or do anything. My thoughts seemed to leave me, my feelings seemed to fly away. I was just a bag of bones with skin and breasts covering it, and a horrible rotting heart placed in the middle that was less human than a goat.
I watched the man blankly. He barreled over to my journal, half crawling, half leaping at the pages. He pulled something out of his vest pocket; a lighter. He dangled the journal over it. He flicked the cap off, and then my life’s work was on fire. He began tearing out pages of my own writing, destroying it. He then snapped my pen. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I didn’t seem to notice. I was too dumbfounded to notice a thing I had done.
He began to yell and scream as he jumped on me. He punched me, knocking me onto my back. He punched a woman, but I didn’t yell back, because I didn’t deserve to. I was no woman. I was, like the Sunglass Man had cried, a filthy, lying, human.
Suddenly, feeling started to flow into my body. I flexed my fingers, and I felt myself shoot up into the air. I was sitting with a bruise growing under my right eye. The Sunglass Man noticed, and roared with rage. He jumped back on me, knocking the wind out of me. I did not fight back. I didn’t deserve to fight back. He was crying, his daunting eyes hanging in my field of vision.
“Stop,” I croaked. How could I bare to say stop? I could not stop the man. I could not stop him.
He let go. I was faced, wide-eyed and innocent-looking, with those great black sockets once again. I could see the rage in his face, the anger, the disappointment, the despair. His mouth curled downward. “How could you ask me to stop?” It was all too silent. “How could you?” and then more silence. “HOW COULD YOU?!” his voice echoed through the empty alley. “I LOVED YOU AND YOU BETRAYED ME!” I could feel my brain melt as he said this. He loved me. He trusted me. The Sunglass Man loved me, and I took it for granted. He loved me. He loved me.
He lunged at me, his hands closing on my throat. I grabbed onto his wrists, like that would help my well-deserved struggle. I saw my knuckles become white as my jaw began to move.
“I’m… sorry,” I felt myself whisper, still fighting. The Sunglass Man was as shocked as I was at this. His eyes went darker than before, and he bellowed so hard my ears rung after.
“I CANNOT FORGIVE WHAT YOU DID!” he pushed me onto the ground, punching me further, trying to think of various more ways to hurt me. “You betrayed me! You human!” He punched my jaw, and I saw stars. I was blind for a second, then my vision cleared and I saw the man again. “I could never trust a human, so why would I trust you?! You are not different! You only care for yourself… that is why I am not human! You are, and I pity you! You lying human. You lying, awful human!” he kept kicking and punching me as he screamed words I could not understand.
I was falling in and out of consciousness, giving up the will to fight, just waiting for the man to finish me off. I hated what I had done to him. I had betrayed him. But he had burned the evidence, he had burned it, so now I could not get money, I could just get the pain I deserved.
Each blow was stronger than the last. My vision grew spotted and red. I could feel blood ooze from my nose, spirt from my mouth, and something made gushing sounds in my ear but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was breathing fast, trying to suck in as much air as possible. I could not hate the Sunglass Man for what he did to me, because I had done far worse to him. He punched more and more, breaking more bones. He was crying himself, I guess he could not bear to see the person he had trusted so soon turn on him and do what everyone else had ever done; turn him into a freak to be showed off and laughed at. I hated myself for doing that. The Sunglass Man hated me even more.
When I thought the man would finish me off, kill me, the pain stopped. The blows and kicks stopped. And the ringing in my bloody ears stopped too. It seemed as if time stopped, or life stopped. His angry, fuming face was staring right down at me, as if I was a useless dog and he was about to throw me out. One side of my face was painfully swollen, while the other was bruised and bloody. I could tell that one of my legs was broken, while about five ribs were either bruised or fractured. And there was something going on inside me (maybe internal bleeding) that made me want to vomit all over him. The Sunglass Man was about to finish me off. But he didn’t.
“What is the point of killing you?” he spat. “You betrayed me, sold me as some freak, and, all I’d be doing to you is favoring you.” He rolled back on his knees, looking at me in disgust. “I’ve destroyed your pretty face, as you destroyed my trust. But killing you would only benefit one side of this fight; and that would be yours. By killing you, I would still live in the shadows, everyone terrified to look… to look at what they gave me!” His voice had been in a gradual crescendo, growing louder and much angrier.
“Just kill me,” the words barely left my mouth. He loomed over me, his haunting eyes never leaving my vision.
“No.” He punched me again, not too hard but still making a big impact. “I can’t. I wouldn’t. Besides, you don’t know all the information you should, yet.” He said sarcastically. He leaned back a little, pulling his arm back behind his head, as if preparing to fire an arrow out of a bow.
His mouth turned to an angry frown. “Wanna know my name?”
All I could bare to do was shake my head no, because everything else was throbbing with pain.
“Glenn.” He whispered. A fist smashed into my face, and the world faded away quickly. Everything turned black as The Sunglass Man ran further into the alley, and disappeared. I was falling, falling into a deep hole of pain, regret, and loss, because I knew, I don’t know how, I just knew, that I would never be the same person. I would never be able to tell the story of the Sunglass Man. I would never be able to right myself. I would never share my information, because he had burned my book. What I had not realized was that as he burned my book, he burned my life away too, just leaving a shell of a woman to live out the rest of the years she was supposed to live out; in isolation and regret and pain.

I was found in that alley and taken to a hospital right away. My face had been permanently damaged, with both cheek bones shattered and my nose far beyond fixing. My ribs were fixed quickly, and my leg was in a cast my whole stay there. No one believed my stories; no one believed that the Sunglass Man was real. The doctors diagnosed it as false memory, something in my brain was just not quite right anymore. So, before I did too much damage, they sent me to an asylum, where I was stuck in a white room with a pad and pencil to right down my thoughts. The rest of my life was spent in solitary confinement, with three meals a day, a shot before I went to bed, and therapy once a month. I knew that everything I told the therapist would be interpreted as made up, no matter how hard I tried. They never believed me; they treated me like an animal.
The Sunglass Man ruined my life, he destroyed it. His eyes still haunt me, his horrible eyes that see the worst and make it happen still haunt me. He got away, still living in shadow, but knowing that he would never let anyone hurt him how much I hurt him. He still forces himself to look into that little mirror. He still isn’t human, and he still remembers the day that I betrayed him.
But he was right. The kind of betrayal I had planned was something no one could ever forgive, and something no one could ever forget.
The Sunglass Man was right. Humans are scared of the unknown. And now, they are scared of me. I am the unknown. Glenn is the unknown. We are the unknown.