The Watcher

Someone is watching over me; I can feel it. This unseen ghostie follows me around sometimes... He is not always there except when I am in danger. He is not my savior from fate, he only observes silently. My earliest memories of him were of the shadow puppets that amused me within the baby creche of my Strife protector while he engaged in battle. The sounds of clashing blades a violent lullaby amidst the screams of the fallen. He was there when I fell drained of my life, a cool hand upon my brow bidding me to sleep to escape the pain. I could not speak in my delerium but only whisper of the horrors I saw in the square. A massacre too horrible to put onto paper. Poor innocent moppets, headless in the square, 1 head, 2 heads, 3 heads, 4 heads, 5 heads, 6 heads... The dark lady could not cleanse the place of evil with fire nor secrecy. He knows, he showed me and though their bodies are but dust, the earth knows and will not forget.