Watcher in the Dark

Chapter 3: The Secrets of Nautical Heights

Ethan wiped the sleep from his eyes as the morning light filtered through the fog, casting long shadows across the street outside the guardhouse. The night had ended without incident-or so it seemed. The strange signal on the radio and the thickening fog had left him unsettled, but by the time his shift came to an end, he had convinced himself that it was nothing. Just another quiet night.
He packed up his things and made sure everything was in order for Gregory's shift, but as he waited for the older guard to arrive, a gnawing sense of unease lingered at the edges of his thoughts.The door to the guardhouse creaked open, and Gregory stepped inside, his boots heavy against the floor. His face, weathered and lined, held the same neutral expression it always did, but there was something in his eyes-something watchful, guarded. Ethan had noticed it before, but today, after the strange events of the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that Gregory knew more than he was letting on."Morning," Gregory grunted, setting his thermos down on the desk. He gave Ethan a quick nod. "Everything quiet?"Ethan hesitated for a moment, his mind flicking through the events of the night-the radio signal, the strange feeling in the fog, the persistent sense of being watched. But he didn't want to seem paranoid, especially not after his first week on the job."Yeah," Ethan finally said, his voice sounding more casual than he felt. "Pretty quiet."Gregory nodded, but didn't say anything else as he sat down in the chair and began going through the logbook. His silence was unnerving. Ethan found himself watching the older man's movements closely, looking for any sign that he might have experienced something similar.After a moment, Ethan cleared his throat. "You ever pick up weird signals on the radio around here?"Gregory's hand paused for a split second over the logbook, but he didn't look up. "What do you mean?""I dunno," Ethan said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Last night, the radio picked up these voices. Couldn't make out what they were saying-probably just interference from a ship or something, right?"Gregory's face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes that told Ethan he had heard this before. "Could be," Gregory said, his tone neutral. "You get all kinds of interference this close to the coast. Radios pick up stray signals sometimes."Ethan waited, hoping Gregory would elaborate, but the older man didn't. He simply went back to reading the logbook, as if the conversation was already over.Ethan frowned, leaning against the desk. "What about the fog? It got pretty thick last night. Felt like it was... I don't know, heavier than usual. You notice that?"Gregory finally looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He seemed to consider his words carefully before answering. "The fog's thick around here most nights. You'll get used to it."There it was again-that vague, dismissive tone. As if Gregory was deliberately avoiding giving a straight answer. Ethan's gut told him that Gregory had experienced the same things he had-maybe even worse-but for whatever reason, he wasn't willing to talk about it."You'll get used to it," Gregory repeated, turning his attention back to the logbook. "Best not to overthink things."Ethan didn't press further, but the sense that something was being left unsaid gnawed at him. Gregory knew more than he was letting on, that much was clear, but Ethan wasn't sure why the older man was so tight-lipped about it. Maybe it was a habit born of years working the night shift in a place like this-learn to ignore the strange stuff, get through the night, and move on. Ethan grabbed his bag, heading toward the door. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow night."Gregory gave him a nod without looking up. "Yep. Take it easy."As Ethan stepped outside into the chilly morning air, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something-something important. Gregory's nonchalance only made the unease grow stronger. It was like everyone around him knew some unspoken truth about Nautical Heights but refused to acknowledge it openly.*You'll get used to it,* Gregory had said.Ethan doubted that.---Later that day, after a few hours of restless sleep, Ethan found himself back in Nautical Heights, this time as a regular visitor, walking through the community in the bright afternoon light. The sun had burned away most of the morning fog, and the neighborhood looked peaceful and inviting, the kind of place anyone would dream of living in.But now that Ethan had spent a few nights patrolling the streets, he couldn't see it the same way. There was something lurking beneath the surface-something the residents either didn't see or chose to ignore.As he walked, Ethan passed a few of the residents he had met earlier. Most of them greeted him with polite nods or brief smiles, but there was a distance in their eyes, as if they were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to engage with him for long. It was strange, like they were all part of some shared secret that Ethan wasn't privy to.He turned down a quiet street and saw **Mrs. Davenport**, the elderly woman who lived alone in one of the larger houses near the end of the block. She was in her front yard, fussing over a small garden that looked out of place among the perfectly manicured lawns of her neighbors.Ethan had seen her a few times on his patrols, always sitting by the window late at night, the faint glow of a lamp casting her shadow across the drapes. She hadn't spoken to him yet, but today, she waved him over with a quick, jittery motion."You're the new guard, aren't you?" Mrs. Davenport asked as he approached. Her voice was raspy, like she had spent too many years smoking or shouting over something louder than herself."That's right," Ethan said, stopping a few feet from her. "Ethan Bishop.""Bishop, huh?" Mrs. Davenport squinted at him, her watery blue eyes sharp despite her age. "You been here long?""Just a few nights."Mrs. Davenport nodded, but her expression remained tight. "Nights are when things get strange around here, you know."Ethan raised an eyebrow, surprised by her bluntness. "Strange how?"She gave him a sideways glance, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You'll figure it out eventually. Everyone does. But don't expect anyone to tell you what's really going on. Folks around here like to keep their heads down. Pretend like everything's normal."Ethan shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the street. It was quiet, with no one else in sight. "What do you mean? Is there something I should know about?"Mrs. Davenport looked around quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's the nights. Things happen in the dark, things that don't make sense. You hear things, see things that don't belong. And if you're smart, you'll stay inside after dark."Ethan felt a chill crawl up his spine. "What kind of things?"Mrs. Davenport shook her head. "I've said enough. Just be careful, Mr. Bishop. You haven't been here long enough to understand."Before Ethan could press her for more, she turned and hurried back into her house, leaving him standing alone in the yard, his mind racing with questions.He walked back to his car, replaying the conversation in his head. Mrs. Davenport had been vague, but her warning was clear: something wasn't right about Nautical Heights, especially after dark.---That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Ethan returned to the guardhouse with a renewed sense of purpose. He had spent the afternoon going through old security logs, trying to find anything that might explain what was happening in the neighborhood. Most of the reports were mundane-simple notes about patrols, routine checks, and the occasional minor incident. But there were a few entries that caught his eye.One report, dated several years ago, mentioned a series of "disturbances" near the house on the cliff. The details were sparse, but the guard at the time had noted hearing "voices" on multiple occasions, as well as seeing figures moving near the property. The report ended abruptly, with no follow-up, and the guard who had filed it had left the job soon after.Ethan's gut told him this wasn't a coincidence.As the night shift began, Ethan settled into his routine, watching the monitors and making his rounds through the fog-covered streets. The thick mist had returned, heavier than before, and the darkness felt more oppressive, as if it was closing in on him.But now, armed with the knowledge that something was wrong with this place-something no one wanted to talk about-Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.As he made his rounds, the radio crackled to life again. This time, the voices were clearer-still garbled, but louder, more urgent. They weren't random, Ethan realized. They were trying to say something, trying to reach him. But no matter how hard he listened, he couldn't make out the words.The fog pressed in closer, the darkness around the houses seemed to deepen, and every shadow looked like it was moving just out of his line of sight. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest as he hurried back to the guardhouse, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.As he sat back at his desk, trying to calm his nerves, the fog outside seemed to ripple, like something was moving through it-something big, slow, and deliberate. He stared at the monitors, waiting for it to show itself.But nothing happened.The night dragged on, and by the time dawn arrived, Ethan felt like he had been holding his breath for hours. The fog lifted, and the streets were empty again, as if nothing had happened at all.But Ethan knew better now. Something was out there.And whatever it was, it was watching him.