The Watcher

It's been far too long, so I thought it was time for me to put something else up.


The sun glinted with a pang of regret, its failing rays trickling gently over flat and crest. Shadows flickered eagerly as their tendrils flared out to envelop the landscape. A quiet unease flooded the ground, as the animals in the forest struggled with the failing light and the people in the valley rushed to escape the oncoming darkness.

As the light faded, more eyes surveyed the land with a different intent, readying for the coming evening with a keen taste of its offerings. The twilight bred a disquiet that passed as the night grew stronger, the passing from day to night presenting itself as a greater evil. The nocturnal creatures bade their time with patience for their equal share of the land, awaiting their chance to forage, hunt and live.

Alone, in silence, lay those who watched both the creatures of night and day. Watching with ceaseless gazes and unrelenting fervour, observing everything with an interest unmatched. The passionate thirst for knowledge and balance drove their thoughts, a lust not slaked by a normal life.

Those watchful eyes drooled over the scene below their furrowed ridge, a pock marked face peering with ferocity into the valley. Their owner's mind whirled with possibilities as he surveyed with acute vision, practice and experience picking up the smallest movements of all things.

The sway of a bush as a cat stalked underneath it, the gentle swish of the tree leaves as a possum leapt from one to another, the flutter of a bat's wings cast against the night sky all stood out for his gaze. His pricked ears heard the casual rustle of leaves filtered out so it barely registered in his mind, that white noise barely a whisper beneath the sounds of movement for all manner of beasts prowling in the dark.

Two figures made their way across a clearing towards their homes. They had tarried too long in the late afternoon and were forced to make their way home by the light of the moon. The night sounds were a disturbance to them, unused to the foreign sounds of nocturnal life. The watcher did not find amusement or feel pity due to the fear dripping from their muted tones of their useless babble.

He pitied their ignorance. He felt regret that they had never learned to observe or listen to their surroundings apart from the sheltered existence they knew. He held his place as the event approached. His pity redoubled as he knew the people had no clue what was about to happen.

The creature came from a patch of thick scrub near the tree line, bursting forth with bared teeth, venom in its heart and hunger in its minds. Its humanoid structure covered in fur charged at the two figures with pure thought of intent. It had prey in its vision, and neither their piercing squeals of terror nor feeble attempts to flee would suffice.

The watcher judged the distance close enough to use his weapon to bring the creature down. He waited. The pursuit was brief, as the figures were no match in speed for the creature. The watcher felt his weapon heave on him, but his hands were steady.

Their bodies were rend asunder by the creature. The watcher would be no deus ex machina for the figures below. He was there to observe, not to interfere. Involvement would simply dim his senses to the truth of observation. The watcher turned, his mind already elsewhere as other sounds and sights demanded his attention. His feet rushed to a new vantage point, for neither time nor his thirst would wait.