Watcher in the Dark

Chapter 6: The Calm After the Storm

Ethan woke up feeling better than he had in days. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he had slept-a full, uninterrupted nine hours. His head was clearer, his body less tense, and as he lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, the events of the previous night felt distant, almost unreal. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to get back to normal.

He swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching as the light of the late afternoon filtered through his blinds. It was the perfect kind of quiet-just the residual sounds of the storm: a light patter of rain on the windows, the soft hum of wind, and the distant rustle of trees. There was no eerie howling, no strange shadows moving in the fog. Just calm.

As he got ready for his shift, Ethan thought back to the previous night, replaying the tense moments, the figures in the fog, the cryptic notes. Now, in the clarity of the day, it all seemed... exaggerated. His mind had clearly been playing tricks on him. The storm, the exhaustion, the isolation-they must have made him see things that weren't really there. The explanation was simple: he was overtired, his imagination running wild. After all, two raccoons had nearly scared him half to death.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he splashed cold water on his face. "I've really been losing it."

By the time Ethan arrived at the guardhouse that night, he felt more like himself. The rain had dwindled to a light drizzle, and the fog was a mere whisper of what it had been the previous night, clinging lazily to the edges of the streetlights. The storm had passed, leaving behind a quiet, damp stillness that felt peaceful rather than ominous.

He settled into his chair, flicking through the cameras as he began his routine check of the neighborhood. The streets of Nautical Heights were calm, the lights casting soft pools of illumination over the empty sidewalks. There was nothing unusual on the monitors-no figures lurking in the shadows, no flickering lights, no garbled voices on the radio. Just the quiet hum of the equipment and the gentle patter of rain.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. For the first time since he had started this job, it seemed like he might actually have a normal night.

But as the hours ticked by, the calm started to feel unnerving in its own way. There was nothing to break the monotony-not even the usual rustle of animals or the creaking of trees. Just the soft, consistent rain tapping against the windows and the steady glow of the streetlights. The quiet was peaceful, almost too peaceful.

His thoughts wandered back to the previous nights. Could it really have all been in his head? The notes, the figures in the fog, the strange footsteps-had his exhaustion really caused his mind to fabricate all of it? Now, with the uneventful hours ticking by, Ethan couldn't help but question everything he had experienced.

He pulled out the old logbooks from the drawer in front of him. If the previous guards had experienced anything similar, there might be some record of it here. Ethan figured that if there had been strange occurrences in the past, something had to be documented-something that would prove he wasn't losing his grip on reality.

The logs were thick, filled with years' worth of nightly reports. Ethan started flipping through the pages, scanning the brief, mundane entries: patrols completed, equipment checks, routine incidents. It was the typical stuff you'd expect in a quiet gated community.

But then, after flipping through a couple of years' worth of reports, he found something.

It was a small note, written in the same logbook from ten years ago:

August 5th, 2013: Strange fog rolled in tonight. Heavy interference on the radio, faint voices. Unsure if it's weather-related or something else. Reported footsteps outside the guardhouse, but found no one there.