By P C P {IAN}

It started with a poem.

I found it on a walk in the evening after an argument with my parents.  I was finally alone and I was grateful.  I needed this.  My parents did not want me to go out. They wanted me to be lectured.  I didn't need their shit.  I was finally with only me.  

I walked down an older road that led to a hiking trail in the mountains.  I didn't see the small piece of paper until I made it to the trail. It was yellowed in a way the paper should not have been without someone noticing it.  It was stained and aged. I picked it up in my situation of freedom and read.

He who comes to see the sights
He whose being is a might
No one knows when he follows
Leading the young to the hollows

I almost laughed when I read the phrases printed.  It was just a bunch of meaningless phrases that meant nothing to me.  

One month later I was out again, this time much later at night. It had become a routine for me. Each time I stepped further into the woods to the oblivion inside. I had no idea why I was going but I did.

I eventually found the piece of a poem in my room and consulted it. It seemed weird that it was kind of like my situation.  

At midnight the next night I took my secret walk into the forest and idled there as I searched in to the night for "he."  At first I saw nothing. Then at 3 a.m. I saw something.

In the non-navigable bush to the west the were a pair of large ominous white eyes. I wasn't sure if they glowed or were reflecting light but it was certain that they lit the silhouette of the figure that they belonged to.  I could only see the silhouette so most of his details remained hidden.  I could tell that he was tall and had a mane of animal-like hair across the scalp.  But this figure was human, or at least humanoid.

I attempted to run but had not realized that I had gone limp waist down.  The only movement that occurred was the buckling of my knees. I fell and stared out to the pair of eyes in the distance.  My vision became clouded and the viewing figure slowly closed his eyes.

As soon as his eyelids shut the forest was shrouded in darkness and I could barely see my own hands.  The figure had seemingly disappeared and I was alone.  I leaned against the trunk of a tree and helplessly took large breaths.  I was stuck.  I had to wait til morning before anyone would come looking for me.

I waited.

And waited.

When it happened.

The eyes reopened no less than three feet away from me.  My blood froze and my heart stopped.  Its eyes met mine and it grabbed my shirt and breathed heavily.  Noxious fumes rolled out of its mouth and my vision faded.

Untitled drawing by purplecowart-d61bkl8

He Watches

It eagerly stared as I passed.

He who comes to see the sights
He whose being is a might
No one knows when he follows
Leading the young to the hollows