October 15th

You talk in your sleep. Did you know that? Last night it was about the fire again. You never told anyone what really happened in that basement. Don't worry - your secret is safe with me. For now.

I like watching you make coffee in the morning. Two sugars, splash of cream. Always waiting exactly four minutes - watching that timer tick down on your phone like it's some kind of ritual. Like it will keep the memories away. It won't.

You should really fix that bedroom window. The one that sticks when it rains. Sometimes it opens on its own at night. Sometimes I have to close it for you.

October 18th

Your mother called again. You always turn your phone face-down when she calls, like you can make her disappear. But we both know the real reason you won't talk to her. Does she still ask about that summer? About what happened to Claire?

The bruise on your shoulder - the one you think you got from bumping into the door frame? That wasn't the door. You thrash a lot in your sleep now. I have to be more careful when I get close.

I left you a gift today. You haven't found it yet. It's in that shoe box you never open, the one shoved under your bed. The one with the photos you pretend don't exist. I put it right next to them.

October 23rd

I dug up your old diary today. The real one. Six feet deep, right next to Whiskers. Remember how you told everyone he ran away? Such a convincing little liar you were.

Still are.

You wrote about the shadows you used to see in your closet. The ones that moved when you were alone. Smart girl - you knew they were real. You just stopped looking.

We've met before, you know. Many times. You were too young to remember the first time. I made sure of that.

October 24th - 3:17 AM

You're sleeping now. Peaceful, finally. The pills help, don't they? But they can't keep me out.

I'm sitting in that chair in the corner of your room. The one that belonged to your grandmother. Did you know she died in it? The nursing home lied about that too.

I should leave. The sun will be up soon. But first, I need you to understand something: I'm not writing these words to scare you. I'm writing them because soon you'll become exactly like me. It's already starting. Haven't you noticed the gaps in your memory? The hours you can't account for?

Look at your hands when you wake up. Really look at them. That's not dirt under your fingernails.

Soon you won't need to sleep at all.

A wicked cackle wakes me at 2:15 a.m.

From my cot, I see no one in or outside my prison cell. I walk to the bars of my cage and, in the dim light of the corridor, I notice a small, unmarked package on the floor just outside my cell. I reach through the bars, pick it up and peel off the plain brown paper, revealing a small, spiral-bound book. No markings there, either. But when I open it, the first page is full of hand-printing that reads like a journal:

Oct. 30

A wonderful night! Just the right chill, and clouds obscure the moon. Reminds me of the evening long ago when you threw eggs at your neighbor’s new car as he parked. The driver panicked and hit another car. You ran. The eggs come before the chicken. :-)

Oct. 31

Remember when you wore a ghost costume on this night? Who knew that little kid would make a ghost of the driver of that other car. And you thought no one saw you.

Nov. 1

I love courtroom scenes in movies. Real-life, too, especially when you smirked at the judge who sentenced you this afternoon for embezzlement and grand larceny. You also should have blown him a kiss like you wanted to.

Nov. 2

Stop writing! Don’t apologize to your ex-boss. Do you really expect your jailhouse letter will make him say, “Duh, I forgive you for robbing me blind”? Stay strong.

Nov. 3

Don’t be a weakling! You should have pushed that book right back at your visitor. Instead, you accepted it, even after the guard thumbed through it with his grimy hands. Throw that thing away!

Nov. 4

Don’t get soft on me. Don’t XXXXXXX You are the man! You laughed at that weak, crying inmate this afternoon. You make me proud.

Nov. 5

Why the hell did you go back to that inmate and read him some verses out of that book? No need to answer, man; I saw the semblance of shame creeping into your mind. I don’t need to remind you—but I will—that you agreed to eliminate that emotion when you threw in with me.

Nov. 6

Awww, today you cannot find your book.

Nov. 7

Couldn’t find it in the prison library either. Heh-heh.

Twelve Noon, Nov. 8:

It pains me to write this, but it will pain you way more. This morning, I saw you in your cell, on your knees with hands folded. This is a mortal violation of our agreement. Tonight, you will see the penalty. This is the thanks I get for recruiting you?

Entry #1

You may not know me, but I’ve known you for a long time, longer than you realize. I’ve been watching, observing, and documenting every detail that matters. This journal—every page—is meant for your eyes only. You’ll understand in time why I know so much, but for now, all you need to do is keep reading.

Entry #2

Today you hesitated outside your favorite coffee shop before heading in, didn’t you? I know that hesitation well. That brief pause where you almost wonder if you should go somewhere else. You didn’t, though, and ended up ordering your usual—black coffee with a hint of cinnamon. Strange how comforting rituals can be, even for someone as restless as you.

Entry #3

I remember the photo you keep in the top drawer of your desk, the one of you as a child by the sea. You haven’t looked at it in a while, have you? But it’s there, a little reminder of what was lost. I know you wonder sometimes what happened on that trip. It wasn’t your fault.

Entry #4

Are you starting to feel it yet, that faint, creeping sensation of being watched? It’s only natural—when a person’s secrets are laid out for them, it’s hard not to feel exposed. But trust me, this is only the beginning. Every answer you seek lies within these pages. Just keep reading, and don’t look behind you.

Entry #5

There’s a reason I’m reaching out now, and it’s not because I want to scare you. You need to understand that there’s something out there, something connected to you in ways you’ve never suspected. Look to the people closest to you—the answers are closer than you think.

Entry #6

Last night, you stayed up late, staring at your computer screen, lost in thought. You were considering a decision, one that could change things for you. You worry about the outcome, don’t you? The “what if” that keeps nagging at the back of your mind. Just know, I’ve seen it happen before—I’ve seen you make choices, some right and some terribly wrong. I wonder which this will be.

Entry #7

Do you remember the old bookstore on Birch Street? The one that closed down years ago? You spent hours there as a teenager, combing through dusty shelves for hidden gems. I wonder if you ever realized someone was watching you from the other aisle, someone who’d slip notes into the books you’d later pick up. Yes, that was me. I was leaving you messages, trying to connect. Did you ever notice?

Entry #8

Today, you’ll get a phone call that will take you by surprise. Don’t let your guard down—it’s not what it seems. Not everyone is as they appear, and sometimes even the familiar can mask danger. Just remember, you’re not alone. I’ve been guiding you this far, haven’t I?

Entry #9

I can sense your frustration as you read this. You want answers, but they’re not so simple. The truth is, there’s something deeper connecting us, something that goes beyond coincidence or chance. I’m here because I know what’s coming, and I can help you prepare. But you have to trust me—or at least, trust the journal.

Entry #10

By now, you must be wondering who I am. Maybe you’ve guessed, or maybe you’re no closer to the truth than you were before. But here’s a hint: you’ve met me, though you might not remember. I’m closer than you think, and soon, you’ll understand why I’ve been watching you all along.

The entries send chills down your spine. This unknown person, this "Watcher," is weaving themselves into memories you thought were yours alone. You begin to realize that the mystery of their identity isn’t just about who they are—it’s about why they’re so invested in you.