The Observer

Ah, there you are.

And so it begins.

I had hoped tonight would be different.

Today had felt different.

But everything happened just as it always has.

So it must mean that I’m different.

Yes (sigh), I suppose that’s it. I’ve changed.

Do you ever get tired?

Mmmm. I think I’ve grown tired.

I think I’ll just rest here for a while.


It’s funny how after all this time we’ve never spoken. I’ve watched you. You’ve watched me. Why is that?

Here they come.

The first to arrive at the party.

Your entrée is served.

What do you get out of it?

I’ve watched nightly as you’ve pulled them in. Gathered them up like little trophies. Your rare collection of distracted creatures. I’ve watched as they smash into you, into each other. Seen how you invigorate them with each pulse of your energy. You know, sometimes they almost look beautiful. A spectacle of fluttering light and chaos. Like snow cascading down upon an open fire.

Is that why you do it? Because they look pretty?

Because if you allow your gaze to fall below the cyclone of wings and wind, there is a sight that chills to the bone. It sits in clear contrast to the havoc above. Nothing moves there. The remnants of this once great party scattered like lifeless confetti.

They’ll never know what could have been.

How have we been reduced to this? Blind followers with seemingly suicidal tendencies.

Can I share something with you? The truth?

I’m out of options. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to beat you.

I had hoped that perhaps I would be the last to endure this curse of witnessing your actions. But I can see that this is not a battle to be won anytime soon. Neither side is giving in.

And I am tired.

I thought I would get to see the day when you lose. When they don’t come. What would happen, I wonder? How would you feel about it?

Can you indulge an old foe for a moment?

If there comes a time when they’re not drawn to you, how would you spend your night? Would you still be here? Who do you really serve? Are you even in control?

You do have power. I can’t deny that. Your presence permeates this place. You don’t add to it, you own it.

There was once a time when it was teeming with life. With colour and movement. A watery wonderland filled with creatures who knew what to do. Who followed their paths in harmony - an impressive display of synchronicity.

Now it’s lifeless… grey. And quiet. But not a good quiet. An empty kind of quiet.

It’s a stagnant wasteland with its cold floor that prevents anything from changing. The movement here is dull and unremarkable. The others pass through it. There is nothing to give and nothing to take. They already took it. And then left this barren space, littered only with an occasional spotlight illuminating a vortex of decay.

(Laughs to self) I’m a little morbid tonight.

(Long pause)

I wonder what makes me different. My mind doesn’t obsess over you like the others. When I think of you, I feel… nothing. Why wasn’t I drawn to you?

Although, I suppose I am, in my own way. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? I feel compelled to watch you.

Maybe there’s a part of me that’s enjoyed the fight. Would I have been lost without it? Without you?

You really are a sight to behold. It’s not difficult to see why you captivate so many.

You’re a cruel illusion. A treacherous seduction.

And I couldn’t break it.

But there are others like me. Ones who aren’t transfixed by you.

So maybe they’ll get the chance to see you defeated.

I hope they do.