Twilight Echos

The watchers

Many years ago, a baby boy was born into life. Over the past... well, his whole life, he has learned many things like his first ups and downs, his first crush, his first girlfriend, his first breakup, his first death in the family, his first job, his first wife, his first children, and so on. Even if he was in his life for who knows how long, many things were his first time until it was his second. And so, he would do the usual routine every day.

9 AM – Wake up.

10:30 AM – get dressed.

11 AM – Tell wife and the kids goodbye.

11:15 AM – Go to work.

Midnight – Talk to colleagues and complain about work.

1 PM – Eat lunch.

5 PM – head back home

6 PM – Greet family upon arrival.

6:30 PM – Go for a run.

7 PM – Eat dinner.

8 PM – Put kids to bed.

8:20 PM – Go to bed.

It was a boring routine, but he didn't mind one bit. He didn't even notice he had the same routines or having the same meal or even question everything and everyone at all. Until one night. That one night, the man was going on a run down the block as usual. He then notices one of his neighbors in the same street sitting in front of his house with the look of grief in his eyes. The man couldn't help but feel bad and walk over to him. "Hey, Stan. Are you okay? Why are you sitting outside of your house late at night?" The man asked. But Stan didn't respond. He just continued looking down the coarse road in silence.

The man continued to worry and tried to walk into his neighbor's house. "Let me just talk to your wife for a second and see what's the matter with you." Stan finally spoke but, only a few words. "She's not real." The man stopped right before he opened the door, stunned at his neighbor's response. "Excuse me?" The man asked in confusion. His neighbor then stood up and repeated himself. "She's... not... real."

The man was confused about what he was talking about. "Okay... maybe we should take you somewhere to ease you. Maybe go see a doctor-"

"I'm not acting CRAZY." His neighbor shouted. "That woman in my house. She's not real. Nothing in this town is REAL. Can't you see that?" The man was shocked at his neighbor's sudden outburst and tried to understand him. "Stan, what are you talking about?"

"Have you not noticed anything weird? How you're reliving the same days over and OVER again?" Stan asked him. "Well, I... I didn't quite notice anything like that." The man responded. His neighbor then grabbed the man's shoulder tightly. "I'm going to leave this horrid town. And when I do I want you to do something for me. Don't go to work. Don't go talk to your family or greet your friends or ANYONE. Do anything else than what you'd normally do. But whatever you do, DON'T tell anyone what I just told you." The neighbor frantically said. The man was confused about the whole situation. He didn't know what was going on or even what his neighbor was talking about. "Stan why are you-"

"I'm not Stan." He said in a more serious tone than his frantic voice from earlier. And just like that, the neighbor let go of the man and ran back into his house. The man then processed everything that happened and ran back to his house. Not walking. RUNNING. The man came back when everyone was still sleeping. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't think. He couldn't even close his eyelids shut.

The next day came, and he woke up like usual. He was about to tell his wife good morning, but he then rethought what his neighbor had told him, and he decided not to. Instead, he left the room, grabbed a black hoodie, and left the house. He took a jog down the block much earlier than usual. He tried to revisit the same neighbor's house. But, when he went over to the house, no one was home. The house looked more abandoned and there were yellow strips attached all around the house with the words "on lockdown".

There were black cars and a few men in suits with black glasses entering the home and standing from afar. The man had never seen the suited man in his life. One of them glanced at home and the man immediately continued on jogging. He then tried to find someone else. He found a lady taking out the trash and he immediately went over to her. "Hey, Linda. Have you seen Stan lately?" The man asked. The woman looked at him with a confused look. "Pardon?" She asked in a soft tone. The man couldn't ACCEPT what he was hearing. "Stan. You know him. You talked to him before, didn't you?"

He questioned again with more of a worried tone. The woman looked at the man in more of a calming tone. "I'm sorry. But I don't know who you're talking about." She told the man. The man couldn't take any more of this madness and ran off. Every minute that he's not in his house, he starts noticing more things. He noticed that there is a camera in lots of angles of all of the streets and towns, most of the people usually do the same thing ALL THE TIME, and the men in the black suits would be in the dark alleys. Glancing. Watching.

By the time he got home, it was already late at night. The kids were in bed, but his wife was awake in the living room noticing him freaking out. "Honey, is something wrong? You've been very stressed lately." She asked him. The man was still pacing back and forth in the living room with his hands tightly gripped onto his hair. "This street... this town. This PLACE. Nothing here is right. I've just talked to Stan not a while ago and somehow NO ONE comprehended who he was, and I've been starting to see these weird, suited men watching us. They were just standing and WATCHING. Then I start noticing all these cameras all over the town. Who even is watching us? Is anything real? Is it all just lies? Are you even my wife?" The man was saying frantically.

The wife's confused smile quivered slightly but remained calm. "Honey, what are you saying?" She tried to ask him, but he wasn't falling for anything. He grabbed onto her shoulders slightly. "Willow. Are. You. Real? Are you even a person like me? Or are you WITH those suited fellas?" The man asked in a serious tone. The wife kept quiet until finally answered his question. "...I'm not willow." She answered under her breath but loud enough for the man to understand. The man's eyes dilated in fear. He quickly let go of her and left the house at full pace. A few seconds after he left, Willow quickly went over to the phone and dialed a number waiting for it to answer. "Hello? This is Agent W. We've got another runner." She notified the person on the phone.

The man was running for his life. Trying to find someone, or ANYONE, who was at the same risk as him. Or he might end up wherever Stan went. He noticed some small groups everywhere he went. "RUN! Run while you still can! The people you know are lying to us! They're not real! We're just puppets to the game!" He cried out as he continued running. It wasn't that long before the men in the suits started chasing him. He quickly noticed and tried to warn the others before it was too late for him.

He tried to look for an exit in the town, but he couldn't find any. It was like the exit never existed. He noticed the men surrounding him and he was desperate for help. He rushed over to one of the cameras to yell for help. "You! I know you're watching you psychopath! Why are you doing this to us?! What IS THIS PLACE?! Why are we trapped?! Why is there nowhere to go?! " The man yelled to the camera.

The suited men finally caught up to him and grabbed him by the arms and tried to get him out of the camera, but the man wasn't giving up. He continued yelling at the camera for help. As we distance off of the town and into the view of the camera, the screen starts to turn to black and white and it shows what's going on in a small television.

And in the surroundings is a living room with a boy sitting on the couch with his remote. Watching. Watching a man screaming for help through the television. Watching men in suits trying to drag him away. "Marcelo. Stop watching TV and go play outside like a normal kid." the lady said to the child from afar. The kid rolled his eyes but didn't complain. "Fine." He replied and he turned off the TV and left the house to play.

As the man's heart raced with terror, a chilling realization crept over him like icy fingers - his entire existence was nothing but a cruel charade orchestrated for the sadistic pleasure of unseen spectators. Every agony he endured, every joy he felt, all mere illusions in this twisted theater where his torment served as entertainment for an audience that reveled in his despair through their voyeuristic screens.