The Watchers

They are the watchers, with ever wandering eyes, observing all and overlooking nothing. I examined the courtyard in hopes of finding a blind spot, to conceal myself from the view of the omniscient, but to no avail. It was now evident to me what I must do if I wished to escape, but I did not know whether my plan would be effective. There was a chance, as slim as it might have been; I still could see it before me, a star on a cloudy night. Salvation was within my grasp, the only thing that barred my way was the watchers.

It was said that once you enter this place, there was no getting out, no way to go back to your old way of life. So it was said, and so it seemed.

I knew that there was no way to hide from their sight, but I had no intent of doing so. I had devised a plan in my mind, which I felt would rid me of this prison. I would go within plain sight of the watchers and attempt the impossible: escape. I knew that they would see me, and doubtless try to stop me, but I felt that even if I did not succeed, any thing was better than the life I now led.

I decided not to waste any time in executing my newly devised plan, and began putting it into action. As I walked across the courtyard toward my freedom, I could feel the agitation of the watchers. I knew that at any minute they would come down and try to stop me, but I kept going. The closer I got to the gate, the heavier my legs seemed to feel, until finally it felt as though I could no longer move. I heard laughter from far away. Looking up, I realized it was coming from the general direction of the watchers, as though they were laughing at my circumstances. Upon further listening I caught a hint of something else, some other emotion in their laughter: they were afraid, afraid that I would escape. But why should they be afraid if they could just come down and stop me? And then it all became clear to me; they could do nothing to hinder my progress towards the gate that now seemed so close. Just then my legs seemed to become much lighter, and hope seemed to arise once again within me. A sudden strength surged throughout my veins, and I felt my legs almost lift themselves in progress towards freedom. Before I knew it, my hand reached for the latch on the gate to find a lock and chain there. As I touched them, they seemed to become part of my hand, intertwining with every fiber of my being. In desperation, I tore my hand away, and a sharp pain coursed through my body. After what seemed like an eternity, my senses came back to me and I heard the chain fall to the ground. I looked down at it and saw that it was nothing but a shattered mirror, in which I observed my reflection looking back at me. I looked behind me to find the faces of the watchers. As I glared into those faces, I saw them slowly melt into my own. I turned back to the gate and unlatched it, gazing at the outside world as though for the first time. I stepped away from that prison, and I was filled with a sudden sense of joy. I had not remembered a happier moment in my life.

As I reveled at my achievement, I began to hear voices, of which I could not find the source. I slowly regained consciousness, but was unable to open my eyes for a brief period.

“What are the odds that he will survive?”

“It is not very likely that he will even wake up. The disease is usually fatal, and there is little that medicine can do for him. At this point, his drive is the deciding factor. Very few have survived this.”

When they had both finished speaking, the two looked toward the bed on which I rested, and a sudden light swept across their faces as they saw my eyes flicker open and my gaze meet their own.