A tale of truth or fiction? You decide...
The Watchers In The House
It stayed here because it died here. It was the first one and had been here so long it didn't remember who -- or what -- it once was. It had been watching for centuries. It watched as a town was was built around it. One day, it watched a house being built upon it. Their digging came within inches of its resting place. The watcher's remains remained.
This house was filled with life for a time, but eventually mortal eyes were closed and eternal ones were opened. The Old Watcher noted the arrival of the new watchers. They were confused at first, but soon learned how to watch. And wait. Always waiting.
Years passed as time was figured by the living. They came and went. Some moved on, some stayed with the house, learning the way from The Old Watcher. And waiting. Always waiting.
Yet time waits for no one, and so they all passed into the realm of the Watchers. Beneath the house, on the quiet street where unseeing life continues its oblivious existence, the Watchers gather. This place is perfect for waiting.
Waiting for the arrival of the ones who will release the Watchers. Every year on that Hallowed Eve, the Watchers will wait no more. For that night only they will be liberated from their ethereal vigil.
Then the Watchers will not be watched. No one will notice them. No one will scream. No one will know they are watching from within. Looking through the windows of their fleshly tenements.
Yes, they will be watching that night.
Watching...
...and waiting...
...for you!
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