The Watcher

Dear Diary

It’s cold, tonight, although, it’s cold every night but this cold isn’t the same sort of cold. This cold is different. There’s cold that can be erased by the comforting presence of a good warm fire but this is not so easily culled. This cold clutches at the heart and instils fear in it and I, for one, am very afraid. As you know, I moved into this remote wilderness smothered cabin to escape my family. The wear and tear of our once stable family became too much for my young heart to bare. I thought that I could find solace in these mountains but my experience here has taught me that this is far from what I would achieve. The cabin itself isn’t so bad, as I explained before. The walls are hard and sturdy. There isn’t anywhere that isn’t sealed tight enough to keep the icy wind out. Most importantly, this cabin has a homely feeling to it, a cosiness like that of what I felt as a young boy in my mother’s embrace. It is not within the cabin that I write in such a fit, however, but what prowls outside of it. I am being watched.

I know I am not losing my sanity or, at least, I hope I am not, but something else is out there. I’ve been here for little over three weeks and in this time, a presence has been growing ever stronger around here. I’m not sure if it is simply my imagination or something truly is waiting in the shadows. The feeling of being watched only seems to disappear when within the walls of my cabin. Behind these walls, I feel I am safe from whatever ‘it’ may be. I believe it all started a few days ago, as I said to you before, I was getting used to how things felt around here. You know when you live in a place long enough, you become accustomed to everything around you? If I walked past the same tree a few dozen times, I would become used to seeing it and not pay it any or very little attention. The same effect was occurring with most of the things around here. I got used to seeing the snow covered pine trees, the animals and even the ever shifting weather above. I became uncaring of what I saw that wasn’t part of whatever I was busy doing. The effect, however, acted like a filter. As everything else melted away, a single presence stayed in place. I don’t believe I’ve become accustomed to ‘it’.

If I were to describe the feeling accurately, it would be like having a large bowl of sand in front of me. I would then poke a hole in the bottom of the bowl and slowly all the sand would pour out. This ‘thing’, however, is not sand but more so a large rock. It does not disappear under my notice but aggressively stands within my attention. It’s like a challenge, a goad to pull me towards it. Towards a trap, no doubt. As I write this, I can still feel shivers down my body. I am covered in thick blankets but this new cold I feel will not disappear until this ‘thing’ does. After it slowly became clear that I was being watched, I thought it may be an animal or a person. The whole reason I brought a gun with me was for this exact situation. An unknown danger that could strike at any moment. In my time here, however, I’ve begun to believe that this ‘thing’ isn’t an animal or human. It’s something else and it’s close. Every single day, I feel its presence getting closer to the cabin. I’m only safe in the cabin. When I’m here, the feeling of being watched disappears.

As I write, I notice that I keep calling whatever is watching me ‘it’ or ‘thing’. For the sake of my own self-assurance, I shall call it Watcher. If I give it a name, I feel I will fear it less. If I feel I understand something, it becomes less scary. That’s what my father used to always tell me, anyway. He used to always teach me about things like how lightning was made so that I wouldn’t fear it any longer. I miss my father. He was a good man but a careless one. When mother remarried, I wasn’t sure what to feel. Father was such a good person, so why it was that mother wasn’t satisfied? How did her love for him simply disappear? I should stop asking such things. I shouldn’t be concerned with why I left both their houses to come out here but more so about the Watcher. Something just tapped on the window.

I’ve come back. Something most certainly tapped on the window. The wind is strong outside, so I wonder if perhaps a branch or some stone hit the window but that wouldn’t make sense considering the steady beat of the taps. I was looking to see if any tree branch may be responsible but they are so far away from the window itself that it seems impossible. What tapped on the window? Was it the Watcher? I know it has been drawing closer to the cabin but is it really this close? Is it waiting outside for me? The cold I felt before has turned to a far greater version of itself. I am utterly terrified. I do not know what may come of this. I feel, at any moment, that it will tap at the window again or worse. Did I imagine the taps? That would explain a lot. I’ve been here for three weeks or more without speaking to anyone. I know writing everything down in you has helped but I need someone to talk to. I need a human voice in my ears. Perhaps the Watcher is simply a manifestation of my isolation and fear? I must find a way to increase my sanity. Thankfully, I have a phone around here. I kept it locked up to submerge myself in nature completely but if I knew this would happen, I wouldn’t have dared to isolate so vigorously.

The phone isn’t working. I tried many times to call someone but the signal isn’t getting anything. No messages from people I know is coming through either. I’m increasingly nervous but am calming myself by playing some of my old songs from the phone. I know it’s weird for someone as young as me to like some of these older songs and stuff like jazz but everyone has something they enjoy in their own way. The music is rather soothing. The voices of the singers make me feel like I’m not alone in the cabin anymore. I really wish I had downloaded some movies or video clips beforehand to watch. The voices of people talking in dialogue would, certainly, make it feel like I’m among other humans in here. Weird. As I was writing, the music cut out. I’m trying to see what the problem is but there is just no music coming out of my phone.

The phone’s battery is dead, apparently. I mustn’t have noticed how low it was before I wasted it on music. What’s wrong with me? I’ve being terrified over something I can’t see and wasted one of the things I need in case of an emergency. To feel a bit safer, I think I’ll get my gun. If the Watcher is real, I need to be prepared if it attacks me. There’s only a single issue, I just remembered the ammunition is outside. I kept it in a small box beneath the porch. Do I risk going outside for it? I’m going to go check the windows again first. Okay, I don’t see anything out there. The area around the house seems pretty clean as well. The wind must have died down without me noticing. I’m going to quickly go out and grab the box before getting back inside. I don’t really have much in terms of self-defence but I do have a small urn that was supposed to be used for decoration. I’ll throw it if I need to.

Going outside was a mistake. I’m back in and shaking. There was something out there. I’m absolutely positive, something was waiting for me to leave the house. I don’t know if it was the Watcher or a wild animal but something was there. I went outside and used my torch to look around for something or someone. I didn’t see anything, so I trudged over to the edge of the porch and managed to worm the box out from its spot. After that, I walked back onto the porch and was about to head inside, when something dropped down from the roof. I didn’t hear a single thing before but something heavy dropped into the snow behind me. I won’t lie. I screamed and slammed the door behind me, throwing the urn during the escape. I’m slowly calming down, now, because perhaps I was being an idiot. There is a lot of snow on the roof, so maybe some of it came loose and hit the snow behind me as I climbed onto the porch again. It’s strange, though, I can’t see the urn anymore.

My gun’s loaded, now. I feel a lot safer with it in my hands. Being out here alone with no way to call for help, this weapon will be my shield. Ironic, considering what a gun is but it’s the best shield I’ve got, right now. I’ve been considering going to sleep but should I? I feel like, just for tonight, I should stay wide awake. Considering the presence is so close and it feels like the thing is right on top of me, now might not be the best time to sleep, at least for one night. As I’m writing, I keep sneaking peeks back at the two windows by the door. They are the thin barriers between me and the outside. I just wish they weren’t made the way they were. With windows, you may feel secure looking out into the darkness from within the safety of your cabin but, in my case, it means the darkness could be watching me to.

Oh no, oh no. No. Please no. I saw it. I saw something. What was that? Please somebody help me. I almost shot my gun but I think I was too scared to move. There was a thing at the window. I was busy reading over everything I wrote, checking for errors and things, when I looked back up and…something was watching me. Something was standing at the window, looking straight at me. I blinked and it was gone but it was there. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, it was there! I don’t even remember how it looked. It was just a large shape. I can’t even tell if it was humanoid but it also had eyes. The eyes I can remember. They were large eyes, not normal ones. They were a light blue, I think? They were looking at me, straight at me. This confirms it. I’m not alone. There is something stalking me. What should I do? I can’t call anyone and it was right outside the door. The safety of my cabin is at risk. The comfort I felt is gone. I feel as exposed as if I was outside.

I really don’t know what to do. The Watcher is real. The thing that was watching me for the last three weeks, always moving closer, is real. I wasn’t imagining things, right? Was I? This can’t all be a delusion, right? Maybe I’m dreaming? Am I writing a diary entry in my dreams? What does it matter if I am? This diary is all that is keeping me together, now. No, not now. Please not now. The ink is fading slowly. The pen is running out of ink and I won’t be able to keep writing for much longer. What do I? Okay, I’m taking slow breathes. I can’t freak out if I want to survive. I haven’t been attacked and I don’t know what it wants. It was big, though. It took up the whole window, when standing there. It must be at least twice my size. If it is an animal of sorts, I’m in serious danger. Wait, maybe it’s not an animal? Maybe this is a prank! That would make so much sense! Maybe I rotten mother and step-father came to prank me.

They didn’t want me to come to the cabin. My father said it would be good to get some fresh air and a space to think about life. My mother hated my father, so maybe she hated his idea. What a terrible prank! No, this isn’t a prank. I saw a flicker of movement again. That wasn’t a human. Humans don’t move that way. What am I thinking? Am I going to die? Relax. I still have my gun. Just need to keep a steady hold on it. If I freak out, I might do something I regret. Seems I’ve been writing for a long time but the ink in my pen is dying, now. I won’t be able to write much more but I don’t think I’ll have to. Whatever this is, I’m sure it’s going to end soon.

Something just knocked on the door.