Eyes are tricky things. When you look at something, you see it right- side up, but that's only because your brain has turned it around for you. Your eyes send the image upside- down.
Brains are tricky things; changing what the eyes see. You see what you expect; what is familiar and comforting. Have you ever walked into an empty room and gotten a sudden, overwhelming feeling that you were not alone? Have you ever felt as though you were being watched, even though you were certain that no one was there? A tiny, prickling sensation on the back of your neck, or just behind your eyes. Have you ever believed, just for an instant, that someone or something was really there, and turned, quick as you could to catch it unawares; but seen nothing? It happens to everyone. Most people shake it off and go about their lives, forgetting that anything out of the ordinary ever occurred.
But not me. I see them, all the time, everywhere.
They are everywhere; the watchers; the quiet ones, who follow in silence and do not interfere. Everyone has one of those. I talk to mine, sometimes. It has never answered. I do not think it can. I often wonder if they know why they watch us. Perhaps they have some greater design, perhaps not. Perhaps they did once, but have, over the ages, forgotten it. They do not reveal their thoughts and their secrets are known only to themselves; or to no one.
There are the parasites, who attach themselves to a human and feed of their emotions. Their joy, their grief, their guilt. Sucking it away and keeping it from you. Once they latch on to you, they are there forever. You can't get rid of them; for the rest of your life they hang behind your every thought, shadows with teeth that drain your world of color and emotion. I see people with parasites riding their thoughts all too often. There have been more of them in recent years, increasing alongside with the escalation of depression cases in adults. Perhaps this is a coincidence, but I think it more likely that one causes the other, though I may never be certain which it is.
The clangers are often mistaken for poltergeists. They are the closest to the physical world; when people claim to have seen a "ghost", it's usually a clanger. Perhaps they are ghosts. I certainly have never seen any one of them die. I can't be sure, but if they're ghosts I hope I don't become one. It seems a lonely, pointless existence.
The watchers watch.They make no move to hurt or to help their charges; observing without interference. The parasites feed, but they are neutral, ambivalent. The clangers scream and crash, but do no real harm. Then, there are the hunters.
They move freely, independent of human souls. Once they choose their prey, they may stalk it for a lifetime before they strike; watching and waiting. They are more tangible than the watchers. Sometimes, the feeling that you are being watched intensifies, becoming a certainty. One of them is there; standing just behind you, waiting. Do not turn to see it. It will be the last thing you ever see.
The parasites eat your emotions. The hunters eat you. They take everything; your emotions, personality, free will. Once they have beaten you down and broken you beyond hope of recovery, they take your body, and wear it like a too- large coat. All you can do is watch as they take what once was your life and twist it, change it in horrible ways. And finally, when they have finished, they eat whatever remains of your consciousness, and leave your body; now an empty shell, to die.
Fortunately, the hunters are few.They are spread thin, and in my lifetime I have only encountered a small number. They're out there, though. Waiting.
Sometimes the feeling that you are being watched isn't just a feeling. Imagine it: It starts with a slight prickle at the back of your neck; growing to a definite sensation of unease.
Do not.
Turn.
Around.