A Project for Better Journalism chapter
Creative Corner

“The Watcher” by Kennedy Ball

The Watcher

She watches from the shadow, staring from the darkest corner of the room. She is a monster, something from a nightmare. She watches the room at all hours of the day. She’s an insomniac who gets energy from the fear of the people she watches. She is tall, thin, bones poking out under the sheer and long black dress that covers her. She has a black veil that shields her face from the world, from us. We cannot see her, we hardly acknowledge her presence. She watches and she haunts dreams. She is who we hear knocking on the walls or walking around the floor above, creaking floors and flickering lights. She is who we fear. Late nights feeling like you’re being watched, it’s a horrible feeling right? Yea, many believe so too. Her name you may ask? No clue, but you can make one for her. Refer to her as The Watcher or something like that, it seems she doesn’t bother you as much when you call her something. The names pretty self explanatory right? Thinking about her when you’re away, at school or at a friends. She’s your secret, nobody else knows about her because you don’t want to sound crazy. Your parents check for monsters upon request from you, but they always say there is nothing there, no monsters. You know deep down that she’s there watching, mocking the dumb adults who are unaware of the monster that haunts your dreams and you. Awake or asleep you are aware of her presence and it makes you uncomfortable, that was until you started talking to her, or is that only something I do. Rant to her about your day, about any problem you have, she never talks back and she’s probably not listening but it makes you feel better to get whatever is burdening you off your chest. She becomes your outlet, your person you talk to when you have a question. Does she haunt you too? Believe it or not, you probably didn’t even think about someone watching you until you read this. You hear stuff too right? She makes those noises that wake you up, the glass crashing in the kitchen when nothing is broken or moved. She’s the reason you feel you’re being watched, feeling anxious when you’re alone, but you’re not alone really because she’s there. The more you talk to her, you feel crazy to say it, but you feel this kind of bond with her. She feels less like a monster but more of someone you’re used too, someone that just feels like good company. Does she feel like that to you? Living with her for the past four years has been a crazy adjustment, the first three years it was terrifying. Never seeing her until you thought your chair of clothes was her, or a hanging jacket of yours on that hook in your wall was her. Do you think I am crazy for this?

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