I've been working on this for a little while now, and I was curious to see who all thinks I should continue working on this. I don't have a title for it yet, because I'm not sure if I'm going to continue it or not.
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Is it so wrong to want to protect that which you must? In such a way that nothing ever makes sense? So that no one sees it? I never thought the world would understand. I didn't ask them to. No one asked me to understand the world, though. But through the looking glass I can barely see that it's safe. My intervention isn't needed, for now. I would only be there if I was needed, anyways. It doesn't matter if I was eating, sleeping, I made a promise to protect the peace, and if keeping her safe is the only way to do it, then so be it. Time wouldn't wait for me to catch up. I would be there, no matter what was between us.
Romance would be an obvious conclusion to this tale, but sadly romance isn't within my bounds. Within my realm of comprehension. I'm not human. I didn't ask to be human. I wasn't given a choice. The cards fell away from my hand and I lost my humanity to the emptiness. I was cheated out of a life that would've been perfect. A consummate life. But what is life without the emptiness of death? It would not be life if there wasn't a death to end it. An end to all beginnings. These things that hunt her though, the destroyers of peace and tranquility, they do not have this end to all beginnings.
I would fear them, if I could. If I was allowed to. Unfortunately not. My curse, or maybe it is a blessing, causes me to know only purpose, logic. Facts are evidence, and opinions are to be crushed. Emotions are dust before the wind. But she is human. How could so much be riding on one so cursed by the fear of being hunted? She is weak, and full of the heart that makes her mortal. Her instincts, however, are driven by the need to survive. Perhaps they will cause her to survive even with her curse. Instincts will not be found in my kind. We do not have that need to survive, for we cannot die.
If I had to, I would put myself right beside her. Not for the reasons a mortal would think. This blasted looking glass is the only thing in this empty blackness, besides my shell of a body. None could imagine the torment of being forced to watch the life of a mortal for all eternity. And when this mortal's time ends, another will require guarding. Because all my existence is, is an onlooker, a spectator. Constantly watching, the vigil of a guardian never ends.
She doesn't know her end will come soon enough. It always does. The end to all beginnings is all that they have as a concrete certainty. That death that inevitably waits for them is the only thing they should worship. But they celebrate life, and the eternity of a god that they hope exists. Hope seems to be the basis for all of their religions, these mortals. They wish for something to hold on to and hope for a life after life, when really there is nothing but death.
What happens after they die, they ask. Why do they care? What causes them to have such curiosity? Surely they know that when their time comes they will find out. Do they have no patience? Do they have no wisdom? Perhaps it is their emotions that cloud their judgment. Surely that must be the cause of all their questions. Do not doubt, for I am full of questions myself. But they are the logical questions, the scientific probabilities that cause me to ask them. I do not choose to have these questions, but they come from ages of watching and waiting for these mortals to understand.
The looking glass stirs again as she turns over in her sleep, a quiet gasp emanating from her parched throat. She did not drink before her sleep, as she knew she should have. She thought she would not need that glass of water that now comes back to haunt her as she awakes, sitting bolt upright and her gasp turning into a cry of surprise and pain. Again I'm sucked into the world of the mortals, and I stand quiet in the corner, watching her with what a mortal would describe as a bored expression.
My eyes automatically adjust to the darkness of the room and I look about, searching for the being that could have caused her to have the thought that she would not need drink. I do not spot it at first, but to move from my position to search for it would alert her to my presence. She stands and rubs her eyes, looking towards her bathroom. She takes a few steps towards it, and then stops as she remembers her glasses. She grabs them hastily from her desk and turns back towards the bathroom. Her eyes drift right across my face, but she does not notice that even the slightest thing is out of place.
She walks into her bathroom and shuts the door behind her. I step out from the corner of the room and quickly search under the bed, in her drawers, and in her closet for the beast that I feel to be nearby. Surely it would not be this intelligent? Surely I would have found it by now, unless it has decided to hide itself in the bathroom. Perhaps they are getting more intelligent. I may have to be more cautious in the future when I encounter them. I step through the wall easily, my ethereal form passing through the solid sheet rock with ease.
She stands staring in the mirror at the sink, a glass of water sitting on the counter beside the sink. It looks as if she has not taken a drink from it yet. Suddenly the creature leaps from the bathtub, screeching and reaching for her. My hand falls to the weapon on my hip, and I draw it and faithfully proceed to let loose the metal slugs within the weapon tear into the flesh of the beast. It collapses to the ground, stopped by the force of the bullets. It growls and tries to claw its way towards her, scratching its way across the tile.
I stamp my boot on its claw, grinding it into the ground as blood spurts out of its fingertips as I effectively pop its hand like a pimple on a teenager's face. Its horrid ape-dog face glares up at me and snarls. I raise the M1911 and put another bullet directly between its eyes, killing it. She's sitting in a corner, now, her eyes wide and wild as she watches the creature's black blood trickle out onto her once clean tile floor. I turn and look at her, my gaze locked in a hard stare. She stands, shaking slightly. I slide the M1911 back into its holster and approach her slowly. She allows me to do so, and I take her arm gently.
"Come on; let's get you back to bed." I whisper gently, pausing to grab the glass of water off the counter and hand it to her. She takes a sip and I guide her back out into her bedroom.
"What was that...thing?" She asks, her voice barely slipping out.
"A bad dream. A nightmare. You'll forget it by morning." I whisper back as soothingly as I can manage. Even after ages of watching mortals, their emotions are still lost to me. I cannot imitate love, anger, sorrow, like they can. I guide her back to her bed and sit down next to her, still holding her arm gently. She watches me carefully; she for some reason doesn't seem fazed by the nightmare that just tried to erase her existence.
"Who are you?"
"I am no one: a fantasy." I take the glass of water from her and set it on her bedside table. I push her gently down back into bed. She continues to stare at me as I pull the covers over her slowly and run my hand down her side to make sure she's comfortable. She doesn't speak as I raise my hand and touch her forehead gently with my middle finger and forefinger. Her eyes flutter, and a moment later she sleeps.
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