Historian Gareth Lexaren

Something was off with my charge today. He seemed scared, paranoid even. As I observed him in his domicile this evening, he began to speak to me, like he used to when he was younger.

“Hello, Mr. Watcher. It's been a while. How are you? Me? I’m awful. See, I think I have a stalker. But he used to sit just across the way and today every time I came up the street, he was sitting in my neighbor’s pine. And my stalker man was in Hamilton while I was visiting my family. So now I’m scared. So if it's actually you I'm seeing for the first time in my life, please tell me. Is it you, mister watcher?” he asked, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days.

I wanted to tell him that yes, it was me he had seen. But I am duty bound to not interact with my charge, as I may change their destiny. Unfortunately, that also means I can’t tell him how gorgeous he is, or-- No Gareth, stop it! You’ve had pretty charges before, stop thinking with your dick.

Instead, I decided to nudge the neighborhood stray towards the bowl of cream that my charge had once again painstakingly set out. For once, the cat only meowed a little and began to lap at the milk. I slid just out of view when my charge opened his window to be met with the stray.

“Hey Miss Kitty! Look at you, chin covered in cream! Finally decided that I’m not going to kill you after all, then?” He reach out to pet it. It hissed and returned to the bowl. “Damn,” he sighed. “One day, you’ll let me pet you. But I suppose that day is not today.” He withdrew his hand and leaned against the windowsill, gazing first at his feline friend then at the skyline. “The strange thing is, Miss Kitty, that I’m not scared of these watchers. No, I am curious though. Why do they stalk me? Am I losing my mind? Is it odd that I don’t really mind them watching, but I do mind the fact that they have never asked for my consent? What do you think, Miss Kitty?” He asked, returning his gaze to the runt. It looked up at him and tilted its head as if he had said the most profound things known to cats.

I sighed a little, and shifted on my perch. His head snapped up, and whipped in my direction. My heart stopped, then began to beat double time. “Who’s there? I must warn you that I’m armed,” He called. I froze, barely moving, scarcely breathing.

After a few moments of squinting into the darkness, he sighed and mumbled, “I must really be losing it, Miss Kitty. I think it's time for bed. Enjoy your milk.” He leaned back and shut the window, making sure to draw the curtains and shut off the lights. Perhaps it was indeed time for bed. 

I snickered the next morning as I watched Mohammad bolt out of bed and sprint to the front door . He was overjoyed to see his mother, his delight was evident on his face, shining like a light in the dark.