The watcher

You guys just don't understand. You don't understand what I'm going through. What it feels like night after night trying to go to sleep, knowing someone is watching you, not knowing what he'll do. Will he try to break into our house and kill us all? Will he set the house on fire when we're all fast asleep, and then just watch it until it burns to the ground? Flames flickering, bright yellow, dull orange, lapping at the walls and furniture. Watching, waiting, until there is nothing left but ash? Ash and bones? The bones of my family...


Why doesn't my family get it? Do they think that this is a normal way to live? Having to be escorted to our class as soon as we get off the school bus? Having to be watched by a teacher at recess? For God Sakes I can't even use the bathroom alone! Mrs. Parsons the teachers aide has to go with me every time! THIS IS NOT NORMAL!

And you wonder why I still pee the bed in the 5th grade! If you only knew what it's like to get up in the middle of the night and have to pass the big bow window. Crouching down like a caged animal so as not to be seen...or...the horror of actually looking out the window and seeing him.

Watching, constantly watching.

A big harrowing figure, always wearing white, just wanting us to know he's there. Wanting to have the power of
fear over us. I HATE HIM! I HATE MY LIFE BECAUSE OF HIM!


Just another "normal" evening at the Target household. Dad's at work...again. Dinner is over and dishes are done. Time to sit and watch TV. It wouldn't be so bad except I have to see the constant reminder of being a prisoner in our own home. We sit down to watch TV, but of course, mom has the pistol right next to her...in case...

I'll never forget the night we were watching "Happy Days." It was the one where Jonie has a crush on Potsie, but everyone thinks he's a nerd. She starts sending him anonymous love letters and calls him Dren. No one gets it until the end when she reveals herself and says Dren is nerd spelled backwards. Anyway, mom asks Kathy to make her an ice-cream sundae. Kathy, being the overpoweriing sister that she is, bribed me to do it.

"Okay, I'll make it, but come with me. I'm scared." She didn't need to ask why, she knew.

So, out we go, into the kitchen to make a sundae. As is our usual custom, we walk to the back door to see if he's out there, knowing full well he is...dad's not home. He always comes around when dads not home. He knew. He knew his schedule. Meanwhile, we walk to the back door, wordlessly, staying so close to each other, we could have been glued.

Then, Kathy puts both hands up to the door and looks out. Suddenly...the bloodcurdling SCREAM! He was not only there, he was peering in just when she was peering out. The door wasn't even locked! My stomach got a queasy feeling and the room started spinning. I thought I was going to be sick. Mom sprang up from the couch and ran into Danny's bedroom, where he was now screaming too.

To my horror and surprise, mom threw open the window and started screaming obscenities at him. "Come on you bastard! You want us so bad? Show yourself!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw a white flicker by the garage. "Mom, there! By the garage!" Next I heard gunshots, then a howling, yelping sound like a sick animal. "You shot him mom! Call the police!"


I felt as though I were in a dream world. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Mom ran to the phone, but it looked like it was taking forever for her to reach it, almost as if she were running underwater. Sounds seemed to revurbirate off of the walls. I heard the dial tone when she picked up the phone. I heard the tones of the buttons, 9-1-1. Then, ringing and ringing. Someone picked up after 4 rings. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?" "Someone's been shot!" Silence. Deadening silence. "Is the victim breathing?" "I dont know, I'm not sure." "What's the address?" "525 Layton Road." Another long silence, then..."Someone will be there shortly."


After what seemed like an eternity the police arrived. There were two of them. A big, robust guy named Jonesey, and a tall, skinny guy named Stewart. They weren't even in the house for two minutes before demanding to see the body. "What body?" my mom asked. "The body that was shot" was the reply. "Well, I imagine he's still outside. I wasn't going out there to look until someone showed up to help me." "You mean YOU shot him?" the officer asked incredulously. "Yes, I did, I shot him through the window in the bedroom." "Was he trying to break in?" the officer wanted to know. "Not to my knowledge, although he was on my back porch looking in through the back door." "Let me get this straight," he began "You mean to tell me a guy shows up in your yard and you just shoot at him?" "Yes" my mother said, shooting him an icy stare that dared him to question her further. "Well," he stammered, clearing his throat. "We may just have to go down to the station and ask you some further questions." My mom stood, unmoving. "I'm going nowhere. I'm in this house alone with three young children, and this madman is prowling around outside, peering in windows and doors and you expect me to do nothing?" "Do you have a NO TRESPASSING sign posted anywhere on your property maam?" "Of course not" shouted my mom. "Whoever heard of putting a NO TRESPASSING sign on your own property?"

"Well," the policeman said "I would suggest you put up a sign if you don't want anyone on your property. Oh, and one other thing...If you're going to shoot someone, make sure you drag him into the house. Otherwise we'll have to prosecute." "WHAT?!!?" "you mean to tell me that this guy can show up whenever he damn well pleases and I'm not supposed to do anything about it?" "Well, unless he poses a threat..." "He IS posing a threat! Just his presence in my yard is a threat!" "Well maam, there's really nothing we can do about that." I think my mom was in shock. "What do you mean there's nothing you can do about it?" "Until he actually harms someone, he's really not breaking any laws." "Okay" my mom said "Let me get this straight...unless this guy actually tries to hurt me or my children there is nothing you people can do?" "That's correct" "Well, then it's too late! What's wrong with you?" she shouted. "Sorry maam, that's the law."

After some more brief interactions, they left. That was that. My mom didn't say another word. Soundlessly we went to bed. The next day my dad went to the hardware store, bought four NO TRESPASSING signs and posted them up back along our property line.

Friday night...dad's at work and mom has a ladies auxillary meeting at the firehouse. Grandma is babysitting...Lucky us! She strictly enforces bedtime rules NO MATTER WHAT! So, here we are at 9PM in the TV room. (Bedtime is 9:30) I'm reading "Are You There God? It's Me Margaret" by Judy Blume. Judy Blume is one of my favorite authors. Kathy is watching some silly show with grandma that I am trying very hard not to listen to. I probablywould have more privacy in my room, but I don't want to be alone. Danny is sound asleep in his crib FINALLY! I think grandma rocked him for two hours straight before he cried himself to sleep. All is quiet, it was a commercial.

Then, out of nowhere...we hear a CRASH coming from the kitchen. "Donna, is that you?" my grandma shouts. Nothing, dead silence. We jolted up from the couch, and followed grandma into the kitchen. Our glass milk jug was shattered on the floor and the door to the cellar was wide open. The door to the cellar was NEVER open. We had an unfinished, underground cellar that was half concrete floor and half dirt floor. It was very musty down there. The only time we went to the cellar was when we were pretending to be the Adams family. Kathy was always Morticia and Gomez her husband was never home. I always played the daughter, Wednesday Adams.


The layout of the cellar was a big circle. A lot of times when we were down there we'd also play hida and seek. You could move around without being seen by the other person for hours. Kathy and I Looked at each other wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. She broke the silence by saying :It's the prowler! I know it! He's down in the cellar!" She started visibilly shaking. Grandma said "calm down, I'm calling your mother." What the heck was my mother going to do? Anyway, she called the Ladies Auxillary and asked to speak with Donna Targett. All I heard her say was "you need to come home right now!" My grandma wasn't much for detail or pleasant conversation. After a few minutes, my mom came rushing through the door. A look of panic was painted on her face. "What is it? What's the matter, mom?" "I think the prowler is in our house, in the cellar." "WHAT!?" "What are you talking about?" After grandma went over the events of the evening, my mom once again called the police.


After quite a while (and past our bedtime!) the police showed up. Lucky us, it was the same two guys from the last incident. Did I mention that we live in a very small town? I think there's only 5 guys on the whole police force! With pen and paper in hand, the fat on said "what seems to be the problem this time maam?" "I think there's someone in my basement." The officer snickered under his breath and mumbled "did you shoot him?" "Of course not! I wasn't even home!" After once again going over the events of the night's happenings, the police decided they would check it out. As they went down the cellar steps, Stewart (The thin one) said "you go that way, I'll go this way, and we'll meet right here," pointing to the bottom of the steps.

"Don't be ridiculous" said Jonesey "we're partners, we need to stick together. If he's down here which I doubt he is, we'll find him together. Maybe even catch him off guard." "Okay boss, whatever you say," said Stewart. As they searched the cellar, mom just looked at grandma and shook her head. "Do you think they'll catch him?" I asked. Mom didn't answer, she just ushered us up to bed declaring that it had been a long day. "And don't forget, you have school tomorrow." Are you kidding me? How could she thing about school at a time like this? We could all be dead by tomorrow! The prowler was IN OUR HOUSE and she wanted us to go to sleep like nothing was wrong?


I remember waking up the next morning to more commotion. As soon I went downstairs for breakfast, my mom, dad, and grandparents were all gathered in the kitchen. My mom usually slept till ten AM, so
I knew something must be wrong. When I got to the kitchen, they were waiting once again for the police to show up. Apparently, when my dad got home from work, he unlocked the cellar door and hung his coat up. He then proceeded to bed. When my grandpa woke up this morning, the cellar door was wide open, as was the front door. Apparently the prowler got out of the cellar and ran out the front door. The police were on their was to see if they could get fingerprints off of the door knob. All of a sudden I got a sick feeling in my stomach. This man was in our house as we slept. He could have come upstairs and killed us all! My parents were waiting for the police and acting like this was an every day occorence. Do they not see the potential danger that we were in? I sometimes wonder about them!

It's almost an eerie feeling to look out the window night after night wonderiing if he's out there. Wondering if he's watching us. I creep to the window on tiptoe, afraid to make a sound, holding my breath all the while. My inside voice is saying "bad idea" but I'm doing it anyway. "Don't look outside" but I can't help myself. It's turned into a habit. Dad's not home, so my first instinct is to check out back. I reach for the curtain, feel the heavy fabric in my hand and pull it back. I search the darkness, my eyes peeled for any kind of movement. Searching for a fleck of white. Nothing. A wave of relief washes over me, but only for a moment. I won't let myself feel calm, I won't let myself feel unafraid. This is what he wants. He wants me to think he's not there. It's his game. The problem is, he's holding the rule book and he's the winner. Not me, warm, safe in my home. Oh no. He lives in the woods, breathes among the darkness, yet he is the one holding the cards. He's the one who calls the shots.


I can't explain the feeling I get, the feeling I've become accustomed to. It's like a deep ache in my stomach. Not really a pain, just an ache. I get it when I'm lookiing out the window into the darkness. I also get it when I'm riding the school bus, wondering where he is, what he does in the day time. Why does he only come around at night? Is he someone that I see daily and just don't know it? No, it can't be someone I see daily. I remember Kathy trying to describe him. Tall, oh so tall, probably about six foot five, hair all the way down past his shoulders, all gnatted and loose. A beard that just grewso much you couldn't tall where his hair stopped and his beard started. And his eyes...this is what Kathy said scared her the most. Evil, piercing eyes that bore a hole straight through your soul. She said when she looked at him that night of the sundae incident, he looked right through her. His eyes were empty. just staring straight ahead, almost as if he were blind. I decided that this is not the type of person you see out walking during the daylight, so I couldn't have ever seen him. Part of me is glad of that.