literature

The Watcher

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Literature Text

     Everybody is being watched. Even when you know you're alone, believe me, you are being watched. It will hide underneath the table while you eat. It sit atop the refrigerator  while you cook. Sometimes It is in your car watching you from behind. Many times It is in a passing vehicle. Rarely is there a time when It isn't watching you. The moments when you think you are alone are only temporary. It always finds you and It will always be watching you.
     Not everybody can see their watcher. Every person has one, and if they can see a watcher, it's only theirs. The few people who claim to see a watcher are in mental hospitals. Most of the others have committed suicide. There was a time when I thought that if I wasn't going crazy, then this thing must be out to get me. I contemplated suicide myself, but being of a relatively sound mind, I decided I should wait. Perhaps it would go away.
     I first started to recognize my watcher by subtle sounds. Occasionally I would wake up in the middle of the night. Eventually I found I was waking up to sharp sounds; taps and squeaks, mainly. Eventually, these sounds played out while I was awake. It mostly happened when I was laying down reading or skimming the internet on my laptop. It was usually during the press of a key or the turn of a page, but I could hear past such simple sounds and pick up on a distinct brush or tap. It often sounded like somebody was rubbing lightly on the wall as one might do to move to a more comfortable position.
     The sounds started getting louder and would occur at a higher frequency. It was as if whatever was causing them didn't care for caution. I tried to ignore them and play them off as the house shifting due to heat or moisture. It was finally starting to bother me. Quick brushes and squeaks turned into bumps and clatter. The sounds would follow me outside my room, down the stairs, and around the house, but nobody else could hear them. Plates might rattle during dinner, and I had to force myself not to react; I didn't want my family to think I was sick or crazy. Even during school the noises continued. My grades on tests were dropping slightly. It became increasingly harder to concentrate on tests and studying with such odd noises all around me.
     After a month of noise I decided ignorance wasn't going to work. I started listening to music frequently. Sometimes through my stereo, but more often than not through my new headphones. They were the fancy noise cancelling kinds, and I must admit that they worked... for a time.
     I was plugged in to my laptop listening to an ambient soundtrack trying to read a series of short stories for class the next day. As I was stretching, my headphones unplugged. I thought nothing of it at the time. Later, when I was getting up for dinner, the headphones unplugged again. I froze when they did so I could make sure the line wasn't tangled somewhere on me. It wasn't. The line fell slack and loose. As I slid the headphones off I could hear a rustle by where my laptop was sitting. This thing, whatever it was, had finally started to get to me.
     The thought of suicide seemed to be the best option at that point. I knew that whatever was causing this wouldn't just stop. It was smart. It was after me! I tried researching the phenomenon, but all I found were suicides notes talking about "the Noises". In a last ditch effort, I decided to try a Wigi Board. I didn't believe in ghosts, but I figured it was worth a shot. I was able to borrow one from a friend (I said it was just for a picture I was taking for my art class). After setting it up and trying it, nothing happened. All I heard was a soft tapping of coat hangers in my closet.


* * * * *


     My grades where going to hell. My mind was a mess. Every little sound, whether it be that damn thing or my family or anything, would put me over the edge. Every dropped pencil made me want to lash out and destroy somebody. I was fired from my job as a clerk at a convenience store because I didn't "maintain a friendly or healthy work environment" and had been "snippy with customers". Sleep was the hardest thing to enjoy or even get. I would wake up to every bump and tick, whether it be the house or the damn thing. It didn't help that my dad worked the night shift and got home at 3 in the fucking morning. Sure, he tried to be quiet, but it didn't help. It practically made it louder. Every goddamn night I would look out my window and consider jumping. It was only a second story window, but if I dove, then I would hit the driveway face-first and break my neck. It would have had to have been before my dad got home and parked his stupid truck in the way. Then he would also see my body first and not one of my siblings. Oh how good the idea felt. The sweet release of death. No more noise. No more torture.
     I would wake up to find a sock missing. Sometimes a drawer might be open. I didn't know if it was just me or that damned monster, but I had had it with the insanity. I was sick of my life. It wasn't any fun. My friends left me, my family ignored me (or perhaps I ignored them), and I couldn't stand the noise of the outside. I would lock myself in my room and try to play music. Sometimes I could go uninterrupted for the afternoon. Occasionally, a speaker might unplug or the power might shut off. Every time it would get quiet, and I would enjoy the silence, only for it to be interrupted by some fucking scratch or the soft brush of fabric on whatever the damn thing was made of! Sometimes it drove me to tears, and every time I would walk to the window and see that beautiful pavement and think of how easy it would be to end it all.

     It was August 14th, 2012 that I stood in the window breathing the nighttime air. I was ready. I had felt it brush my leg, and I was done. I looked back to my room one more time. I don't know what I was looking for. Maybe I just wanted to see my mom and have her rush to stop me and tell me that she loves me and that I'm worth something. Maybe I wanted to see a rat or something that could explain all this shit  and give me one more day of all this fucking madness to find a reason to live. I skimmed my room from the left to right. I saw my deck, followed by my unmade bed (maybe I should have made it), my dresser, my closet, and my entertainment center. All the things that I once loved were curses because of that damn little monster. As I turned back, I saw It hiding behind my bed. It was looking at me. Watching me.
     It was a small thing. It looked almost human. It was naked and knelt over with a large and disfigured head and a mouth that just looked like a hole in Its head. It had several small teeth and a thin tongue that just hung there. It was a pale white with huge black eyes that never stopped looking at me. I stood there starring at It for God knows how long. After what felt like a lifetime and looking at It eye-to-eye, the little bastard crawled away. It scurried into my closet. I hopped down from the window and followed It. When I flipped the light on, it was nowhere to be seen. I walked back to the window and shut it. The room was warm and muggy now. I crawled in my bed and had the best night of sleep in my life.


* * * * *


    It's a Watcher. Everybody has an invisible watcher, but I can see mine. I don't know what makes me different or why it decided to show itself, but I know it is there. I always see it. It watches me. It hides under my desk when I read, it sits behind the TV when I'm in the living room, and it looks at me from the foot of my bed while I sleep. If I ever want it to go away, I just stare back at it. It will hunker away and disappear. I don't know how it does it or why it leaves, but it does. It's usually just watching me from another vantage point, but it stays quiet, so I don't mind at all.
     Every morning it's there at the foot of my bed staring at me. Watching me. Judging me. I fucking hate it, but it no longer controls me. I just watch it back. I don't let it leave my sight. Even when it runs away, it always comes back, and I always find it.
     I am always watching it.
A short story I wrote whilst bored one day on the job. It's not meant to be anything terrifying or even that scary. It's just another story looking into an idea and finding some oddities.
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ThePastIsNevermore's avatar
Cute and creepy all at once.... I love it.