Friday Night Frights: The Watcher

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You ever get the feeling that something's watching you?

Not from the shadows, not hiding.

Just standing there.

Perfectly still.

Watching.

Trying to understand you.

Because once something understands you,

it knows how to become you.

And that's when it gets close.

So, tonight, before you lock your doors,

before you turn out the lights, take a second.

Look out your window and ask yourself,

would you even know if something was out there?

Welcome to Friday Night Frights.

It started with the dog.

Her name was Daisy, old golden retriever,

sweet, slow, the kind of dog that doesn't scare easy

because she doesn't really think anything's wrong with the world.

That's important.

Because Daisy stopped going into the field.

The house sat by itself about a quarter mile off a back road.

Nothing but trees in an open stretch of tall grass behind it.

No neighbors, no street lights, just wind.

And that field.

During the day, it was beautiful at night.

It felt like something forgot to turn the world off properly.

The first time it happened, Sarah didn't think much of it.

She slid open the back door, barefoot, wrapped in an oversized hoodie,

glass still in her hand.

Daisy, go on, girl.

The dog stepped out, paused, and just stared straight out into the field.

Didn't bark, didn't growl, just stared.

Daisy, nothing.

The wind moved through the grass and waves, soft and whispering.

And then the dog slowly backed up, not turned around, backed up,

right back into the house.

That was the first night.

The second night, Daisy wouldn't even step outside.

Just stood at the doorway, nails clicking nervously on the hardwood,

whining low in her throat.

That's when Sarah felt it, that, whole.

You know the one, that feeling where you have to look.

She stepped out onto the porch alone.

The air was colder than it should have been.

No crickets, no frogs, just quiet.

And then she saw it.

At the far edge of the field, something standing there.

At first, she thought it was a person, tall, still, just watching the house.

But something about it, it was wrong.

It was too still, not like a person trying not to move, like something that didn't understand

movement at all.

Hello?

Her voice didn't carry far.

It felt like she sounded, it felt like the sound got swallowed halfway across the

yard.

The thing didn't react, didn't shift, didn't breathe.

It just stood there, watching.

Sarah felt the first crack of fear then, that subtle one.

The one that says, you shouldn't be here.

She backed into the house, locked the door, hold the curtains.

And told herself it was just someone messing around.

But here's the thing.

The next night, it was closer, not by much, but enough.

She noticed it the second she stepped into the kitchen, didn't even have to go outside.

You ever just feel something before you see it?

She froze, slowly turned her head toward the back window.

There it was, standing halfway through the field now, closer.

And now she could see, it wasn't right.

Its arms were too long, hanging past where they should.

Its head slightly tilted, like it was trying to figure something out, and it's posture.

God!

It wasn't standing like a person.

It looked like it had learned how to stand, from watching people, and got it almost

right.

Sarah locked every door that night, didn't even sleep.

Daisy hid under the table, shaking.

And sometime around 3 a.m., Sarah heard something, a soft sound, from the backyard.

Not footsteps, not quite.

More like, something dragging lightly through grass, so you didn't want to look.

Everything in her body told her not to, but she did, slowly, quietly.

She walked to the back door, and that's when she realized, the thing was no longer in

the field.

It was at the edge of the yard, and it was moving.

Not walking, whitching, short, unnatural jerks.

Like frames for missing, like frames missing from a video.

They would be still, then suddenly closer, then still again, watching, always watching.

Sarah stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat, and then, it moved again, right

up to the back door.

So fast she didn't even see it across the yard.

One second, empty space.

The next, it was there.

Right on the other side, of the glass.

And now she can see its face.

Or, what was supposed to be one, its eyes were too wide, too open, unblinking, and its

mouth stretched, not smiling, but trying to, like it had seen smiles before, and was

attempting one, badly, Sarah couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and then, then it spoke,

not loud, not clear, but enough, let me end.

The voice definitely sounded wrong, like multiple tones, layered together, like it had

decided which voice to use.

Sarah shook her head, here's already falling.

The things had tilted further, too far, a sharp, unnatural angle, and then it smiled

wider, let me end.

Daisy started barking then, wild, feral, nothing like the dog she knew, and for the first

time, the thing reacted.

Its eyes snapped toward the dog, and something changed, the smile dropped.

Its posture shifted, lower, hereditary, Sarah grabbed Daisy, backing away from the door,

and then, the things slammed against the glass, hard, once, vice, the door cracked, Sarah screamed

dragging the dog down the hallway, locking herself in the bedroom.

The house went silent, a little too silent, minutes passed, or hours, she didn't know,

and then, a sound, from inside the house, a soft, ragging, from the kitchen, Sarah's blood

ran cold, no, no, no, no, the back door, she never heard it break, but it didn't matter,

because something was inside now, moving slowly, deliberately, learning, the footsteps,

if you could tell them that, weren't right, too uneven, too careful, like it was trying

to mimic how people walk, getting closer, Daisy whimpered, Sarah covered her mouth shaking,

the hallway creaked, the footsteps stopped, right outside the bedroom door, silence,

and then, a soft, knock, three slow taps, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, please, please

don't, another knock, and then, her own voice, from the other side of the door, Sarah perfect,

exactly like her, open the door, her breath hitched, no, and then, the handle slowly turned,

the story ends there, or, at least, that's where they stopped finding pieces of her, they

say the house is empty now, but sometimes, late at night, if you stand on the edge of that

field, you'll see someone standing out there, watching, perfectly still, almost human,

almost, and if you're unlucky, it might start walking toward you, not quite right, learning,

if you made it this far, maybe go ahead and lock your doors tonight, maybe check the windows,

one more time, and if something was out there, watching you, let's just hope it's still learning,

if you enjoyed tonight's story, there's more waiting for you next week, and the week after that,

engagement would be great, a like to follow a share, subscribe, a rating and review for not only

this segment, but for the main show as well, Patreon, where the weird ones go, I have three tiers now,

the ad-free early access, and then, the hot mic, which is, you get, let me talk at you, where I share

my thoughts and stuff like that, and you guys can communicate there, and you get a free coffee mug,

and then the horror society, where all things horror and everything that has to do with the movies,

and my paranormal investigations that I will be doing, and all that kinds of stuff, so,

I really appreciate you listening, so go ahead, over to the website, where the weird ones are

podcast.com, and let me know your thoughts about tonight's story, engagement would mean a lot to

me, especially on this stuff, you know, I haven't really gotten a whole lot of engagement from

the listeners, actually, really, at all, the four years that have been podcasting, so, it'd be

pretty dope to get some engagement now, so, all right, that's it, that's Friday night,

so, remember, lock your doors, lock your windows, and don't stare too long at the thing in the field.

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