Writespiration #55 They're watching you…

They're watching you

This week, I was thinking about Big Brother, in the form of a real satellite that hovers above us, The Black Knight. And so the writespiration this week, is to write about the person watching you.

Here’s mine:

A shudder tiptoed down my back like a knife slicing through flesh. My heart rattled against my rib cage, it told me what I already knew. They were watching. Just like they had been watching every night for the last year. I pulled my jacket in and tucked my mouth into the collar trying to hide from the icy air. My eyes darted round the park. Bin.  Bushes. Trees. Swings. Nothing, no Hunters anywhere.

“Where are you, damnit,” I whispered into my coat.

A hand slipped over my arm. I flinched. I hadn’t seen anyone coming. A giggle. Gracey-Mae. I suppressed a growl,  I should have been more careful and I definitely should have seen her coming. A smirk flickered at the corner of her lips.

“It’s not funny, Grace. What would’ve happened if it wasn’t you?”

“But it was me…”

I glared at her, this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“What’s the count?”

Gracey-Mae shifted her feet around for a while before finally looking at me, “not good Lou, not good at all. We lost Jack’s parents last night.”

My stomach furled into a knot. A pit opened somewhere deep inside me and threatened to swallow my heart.

“Shit.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to protect your parents, Lou. I swear it. We won’t let the Hunters get them.”

My jaw hardened as I ground my teeth into oblivion.

“Don’t be so naive, Grace. They’re already dead.”

“We still have five days, we can save them.” She reached out to touch my arm but, I spun on my heels and stalked back to my flat.

She was wrong. There was no saving them they were already dead. It didn’t matter if we had five days or fifty. They were going to be taken, just like the rest of the adults were.

I reached the flats but a boy was sobbing on a bench outside. His blonde hair bounced with every rock of his shoulders. Jack. I stopped and took a deep breath. That would be me in six days time. I ran through the words I had recited to a thousand other kids since the adults started disappearing. My chest ached, I’d be saying this to myself soon. There was a time, when they first started disappearing I still believed my spiel. Not any more.

“It’s ok, Jack,” I said putting my hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t ok. None of this was. “We’re going to find them. You have to believe that. You have to stay strong.”

He looked up at me, eyes wide and bloodshot.

“It’s been a year, Lou, how can you say that? We haven’t found a single adult in that time.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean we won’t. Joshua nearly caught a hunter last week. We’re close, Jack. Real close. Trust me, they aren’t the only ones hunting anymore. I’m going after them. If they’re going to take my parents, I’m going to take one of them.”

His eyes dried up. He looked a state but at least I left him attempting half a smile.

I replayed my words, ‘I’m going after them.’ The sour taste of bile nipped at my throat. Was I? Did I really mean that? 

I was the oldest child in the city. In a week, I would the oldest person in the city. I wondered if that was why my parents were left to last, because I was next? The nausea subsided, replaced with a cold hard realisation.

I had to go after them.

If I didn’t, I was going to be next.

***

Now to last week’s writespiration the challenge was to write about the word Moist for 120 seconds. Here were the entries:

B.K Crawford

wrapped my arms around my head in the darkness. Moist. The throbbing told me I was in trouble. Not so much due to the pain, but because each time my heart beat it meant another spurt of liquid ejaculated from the side of my head. I lifted my hand and waved it in front of my face. Nothing. Had I gone blind after the fall, or had I ended up in the deepest hole inside the cavern? I heard a voice emanating from above. The first word echoed, “Die,” and the second, “Bitch.” Would he really leave me alone here in this…

***

Hugh

Tim and Maureen loved living in the warm moist place they had found. It was wonderful and it was not long before all their friends joined them in Moist Town. Parties were held and they did all they could to get the town even moister. They had lovely moist babies who grew up and went to the moist school whoes Head-Teacher was called Mrs Grime. The moist children loved her so much so, that they gained their entry to the moisture universality which was located just before noise hair tunnels.

***

52 comments

  1. I love your entry, Sacha. I’d love to read more. 🙂
    Here’s mine (sorry it’s kind of long!)
    It was all I could see in the pitch black of night. Three eyes glowed on the other side of my bedroom. This was not a stranger who broke into the house and was trying to rob us. This was someone—or something—much bigger than that.
    It was a monster.
    The eyes stared at me unblinking. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to count sheep in order to sleep. Everything would be better in the morning. The eyes wouldn’t be there when daylight shone through the window.
    And yet… I couldn’t look away.
    I pulled the blankets slowly off my face only uncovering my own two eyes. Sure enough, the set of three eyes were staring back at me.
    They were bright. They were yellow. The eyes were open wide, unblinking. They stared directly at me their gaze not shifting one bit.
    Could it blink? Could it even move? Every night the eyes stare, but they never do anything. It never spoke, never made any noise.
    Sweat formed on my forehead. My arms became numb and stiff with fear. I finally couldn’t take it anymore.
    “Dad! Come quick!” I shouted as loud as I could and then immediately covered my head in my blankets again.
    Through the sheets I could see the room turn brighter.
    “What? Is something wrong?” I heard the soothing sound of my father’s voice and let out a sigh of relief.
    I peeked over the blankets and sat up in my bed. I pointed to the other side of the room directly across from my bed.
    “There’s a monster in here.” I whispered.
    My dad smiled at me. Why was he smiling?
    “Honey, I promise there are no such things as monsters.” He walked over to where the monster had stood and looked up at the lavender painted wall.
    There was nothing across my bed. The wall was bare and my dresser and closet were near my bed. There was absolutely nothing that could look like three yellow eyes watching me. There was only one explanation: it was a monster.
    “See?” Dad stretched out his arms still facing the wall. He turned around and shrugged. “There is nothing here.”
    Only because the light is on… I wanted to explain to him, but I couldn’t find my voice.
    “Now go back to sleep. It’s late and you have school in the morning.” Dad kissed me on the forehead. He turned the light back off and closed the door.
    The room was pitch black again. I stared at the closed door breathing slowly my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.
    I told myself to put my head down on my pillow and close my eyes. I told myself not to look at the monster.
    But I couldn’t help myself. I had to see if it was still there.
    I turned my head to look in front of me and sure enough, the monster was still there.
    And he brought a friend.

    1. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RACHELLLLLLLL, what are you doing to me…. I was like, wait WAIT WAIT WHAAAAAT???????? thats the end? NOOOOOOOO. what happens. what bloody happens next????

      1. I don’t know! I have no idea where that idea came from, but I have to admit that I was pretty impressed with it! So I’m glad you enjoyed it. 🙂 I really like it, so I may play around with it a bit more at some point.

    1. enthralling? :O ok that about tops the list of the best darn thing anyone ever said to me <3 thank you 🙂

      Photo taken from unsplash – its a bit like creative commons. I just tweak them and overlay text 🙂

  2. Reflections

    Herbert was the first male child in his family since anyone knew. The shock had been enormous, or so people said. Sadly he lacked for a role model as both his grandfathers and father had left before he reached school age. Surrounded by women who constantly fretted about him, he did as he was told. It was just… easier. He knew they knew best.
    When his Grandma went into the nursing home, his mother was frantic. The fees would be crippling. She asked him to clear the family house for sale. As usual she reminded him to leave grandma’s dressing room to her. He’d been told early it was ‘Women only, Herbert’ and he never questioned it.
    Herbert liked the woman from the auctioneers, Hazel. She was funny, kind and to Herbert’s limited world view, beautiful. She seemed to like Herbert. ‘What about in here?’ she’d asked early on. ‘Mother will deal with that.’ Hazel seemed to understand.
    When both mother and grandmother died within a week of each other, Hazel and Herbert grew closer still. ‘You must sell.’ Herbert knew she was right but someone would have to clear out the dressing room. ‘I’ll do it, Herbert.’ She squeezed his hand, the only physical contact between them, but one full of charge.
    The day they chose, a Tuesday, Hazel brought boxes and bags. ‘What about family things? Memories?’ Herbert shook his head. It should all go. He went out, bought something for their tea. Cream slices for afters. She deserved a thank you. Herbert dreamt of kissing Hazel’s creamy lips. Maybe.
    He could tell something was different as he unlatched the door. Singing floated down the stairs, an old song, one his grandma sung. Outside the room, Hazel waited. She smiled as she saw him, melting his heart. ‘Oh it’s beautiful Herbert.’
    ‘Where’s it all gone?’ Nowhere could Herbert see the boxes and bags of things; had she already taken them to the auction house or the dump?
    She took his hand; this time the charge seemed to hold him, like a magnetic force. The door was open and he could see the room was empty. ‘Come.’
    The walls were papered in ancient yellow flowers, the floor bare. It was only once inside he saw the mirror on the far wall.
    It was stunning. The carving was ornate, lines impossible to follow with the eye, the encrusted jewels fracturing the light into unfeasible rainbows. But it was the reflection that held him; the clarity was, to Herbert, extraordinary. It was like he was enhanced.
    Behind he heard Hazel. ‘They just makes you understand.’
    He sought out her reflection, and there she was, a faint blur to his right, standing a little in front of his mother who was in a slightly shaper focus. She shook her head, as did his grandmother. Grandma had those pursed lips that spelt trouble in his childhood.
    To the left and right going back as far as he could see, each figure slightly clearer than the last, stood ranks and ranks of women, the nearest vaguely familiar from old photographs. Each woman bore those pursed lips: nearest the front it was disappointment while further away it turned to anger and then downright fury.
    Hazel still spoke, ‘It’s like they’re waiting for me to ask any question. All that wisdom from all the women who have sat in front of it and told it their secrets.’
    Herbert watched as many eyes bore into him. And through those eyes he heard voices, each saying the same thing. They were insistent. It was like his mind was being wrapped in knitting, each thread being pulled tighter.
    He turned to Hazel. Her eyes blazed like the women’s in the picture. He shook as if chilled to the very marrow.
    ‘Will you marry me?’
    Hazel smiled and kissed him. She nodded. Behind him, Herbert knew many others nodded too. ‘I will,’ she said, as did all the others.

      1. Not sure I want to think about the what nexts actually! It’s based on my grandmother’s bedroom from which my brother and I were banned and my father never entered. He used to say ‘women only, boy’ with a sort of wink which made it all the more fascinating. All you could see from the door was her dressing table and this ornate Mirror above it, reflecting back at me.

        1. That’s so spooky. Well I really liked it so I’m with you on the what next… add it to your list of books u need to write! It’s almost longer than my list of to be read!!! Lol

    1. Hehe, I’m not going to! I’ve had quite a few comments saying the same, it’s been so lovely so I think I’ll turn it into a weekly post for a few weeks as I’m not sure I can do it justice in flash!… 🙂

  3. Very intriguing Sacha. I believe there’s a series here? Kind of like Hugh’s Truth App. Oh, and , isn’t ‘big brother’ just everywhere? Especially on the internet. 🙂

    1. Hehe, thanks Debbie, have written part II !! so who knows where this will go! thanks for reading. I thought I had replied already but couldn’t find my response. Bi Bro really is everywhere! Its kinda scary!

  4. HI Sacha, loved your story! As everyone else is saying, there must be more to this. I think there’s actually a book in it, it sounds like great YA dystopia to me.

    Anyway, here is my contribution.

    I don’t need to see their faces to know they are looking; their stares burn. I can feel them watching my every move, their eyes lifting this part of me, prodding at that, while their fingers itch and twitch but remain pinned to their sides on arms stiff as rods of iron.

    Their curiosity and revulsion crawls across my skin like flies, slowly sinking into the void where my soul once resided, that last lonely vestige of humanity crushed from being in a futile attempt at self-defence.

    I don’t want to catch their eyes. I don’t want to acknowledge the spark of pity, disgust or embarrassment which lodges there. I don’t want to see them turn away, saving themselves from the assault of my presence by denying my existence.

    I may not look like them, but I AM like them. I only want what they want, and that is to be loved.

      1. You have a thing about sentences, don’t you??? I’m sure you can write ‘like that’ and probably better. I’m going to start picking out sentences from your writing from now on…

  5. Great piece of flash, Sacha. What a great story and what a cliff-hanger (see you can write them). Here is mine.

    They watched me. It didn’t matter which way I looked or where part of the room I moved to, they were watching me.

    Their eyes were dark and some of then frightened me. I just wanted to get out of there but the doors were locked. I’d tried banging on the doors so somebody would hear me but nobody came. They’d obviously arranged it so that nobody would come. I was now theirs, I was a part of them and they were never going to let me go.

    I started to cry but they did not care. It made no difference to them. All they seemed to want was for me to be there so they could have something to watch.

    Suddenly my heart leaped! A key turned in the lock and the door opened.

    “Sorry Fred, I had no idea you were still here.”

    I ran for the door almost knocking Neil’s security cap off his head, and left all those staring eyes on the paintings behind. I hated working in this art gallery!

    1. pahahahahahaha omg I thought this was something really sinister. You’re took funny. I loved this ending!! 🙂

      hehe thanks for the compliment, as a few people mentioned it, I have decided to carry on the story as a serial, following in your truth app steps Hugh :D.

    2. Ohh blimey, on here for now, if people like it, ill whack it into a book once its complete – but I don’t know if it will reach novel length! :S I’ve never written without a plan, its terrifying!

      1. LOL – I lost myself a long time ago.
        I read all the other contributions in the comments and they’re great.
        I think you’ve started something here Sacha…
        Your tale and challenge has got the creative juices going with these great authors 😀

        1. Ahhhh sorry, that’s what happens when I multitask! I got myself confused!

          Thank you, it does seem like this story has legs. The comments literally made my week so lovely and such a boost ??

  6. Definitely some good tension building there – and intrigue. I wonder what has happened to the adults. It reminds me a little of the “Tomorrow” series written by John Marsden. I think the first is called “Tomorrow When the War Began”. YA set in Australia.

    1. Thanks Norah – I’ve actually carried this story on because lots of people said they wanted to know what happens! Think it will be a short serial! ?? I will have a look at that series you mentioned. Have got a couple of your posts to read too and will come back to those comments on your praise post – been a busy one this week!

      1. It only gets busier! Don’t rush back on my account. We do what we can. I never get to all of your posts, but I always make sure to get to some – keep an eye on you, if you like! 🙂

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