The Watcher

‘The Watcher’s Watch, so the Dead can rest’

Lazarus stood over the freshly dug grave. Rain drops trickled down his nose. He wished he had worn his all-weather coat. The thunder boomed over head. It was going to be a doozy of a summer storm. It was proving to be a cold and stormy night, but Lazarus continued to stand. He had no choice; it was his job. He was the caretaker of this cemetery and the watcher. Night after night he stood over the fresh graves, watching and waiting. Salt ready and grasping his ancient weapon, his Valuder.

This ancient weapon, a sword encrusted with ancient crystals of Tiger’s eye for strength and bravery. Bloodstone for the upcoming challenges. Amethyst for the confidence he would need and Hematite for focus. It had been past down through his family for centuries. Passed from his grandfather to his mother now to him. His mother was the last watcher, having died a few years back, and as tradition would have it, the first-born watcher of a first-born watcher, he was now the chosen watcher. He knew there were watchers in other cemeteries. But his family had only ever protected this cemetery for centuries. Watchers never spoke to other watchers, but they knew of their existence.

The apparitions were always more active during a storm, so he would have to stay alert. Thunder roared, and lightning lite up the sky. In other circumstances he would have been in awe of such brilliants. No time for that now, he had to listen harder and feel more. When it happened, the goosebumps would prickle up his arms, his temple would begin to throb. His heart would beat through his chest, and his body would turn to fight or flight mode. Only once had he given into flight and run. It was his first time, and his mother had been training him. When the apparition appeared, it had scared him senseless, but he was just a kid then maybe 12 years old. His mother had patiently explained to him that his response was normal, but she insisted he come back again over and over, night after night until he was hardened to the job. When he found a mate and bred his first born would need to be trained, and he intended to follow his mothers' teaching ways. There had been watchers in his family for centuries. Their job was to place the undead to rest and give them peace. Most people when their time has come will rest in eternal peace, or reincarnate if that’s their choosing. But others, and this is where the watcher comes in, some souls refuse to die, they refuse to rest. They come back within 24hrs, regardless of how their body has been disposed of. The watcher must attend every funeral, while there he may see, smell or even hear the unrestful soul that had made the decision to fight death.

If the restless soul was to escape, as it had done in the past, all hell would break loose. Thankfully it had never happened on their watch, but it had happened to other watchers. The impact when failing to vanquish a soul that refuses to rest has been devastating. World wars, mass murders, serial killers and even past pandemics have all been at the hands of disturbed, angry souls, wishing to destroy as many human souls as they can and to cause complete chaos as they can.

The wind continued its howling song, whipping up the dust, into tiny tornadoes.

After what seemed an eternity, the thunder ceased, the wind stopped and it finally began. The watcher felt it before he seen it. His heart began to beat through his chest, The figure of Martin Mainstay, lawyer, hit and run victim, was materialising slowly. First an arm, one leg then another and finally a head. Martin Mainstay stood swaying and shaking his head from side to side. Confused and scared. The watcher felt the goosebumps; his head began to throb. He stepped towards the apparition of Martin Mainstay and began to sprinkle the salt. The apparition cautiously began to focus its transparent eyes on the watcher. The watcher, maintaining eye contact, advanced further towards the apparition of Martin Mainstay throwing the salt directly in to his eyes. The burning began. The apparition threw his head back releasing a god-awful scream as the salt took his eyes. The apparition lunged at the watcher. The watcher, bringing his valuder down with one sweep he sliced the apparition in half. A blinding light and the apparition exploded into a million fragments. It was over. The watcher fell to the ground all his strength gone. It was always like this after a vanquishing. Sometimes minutes sometimes longer, depending on how much life force the apparition drained from the watcher. Martin Mayfield had been caught off guard by the watcher. After no more then a minute the watcher had fully regained his strength. Some strong coffee and a meal with plenty of protein and he would be ready for the next apparition. Or so he hoped. He began heading back towards his makeshift camp which he had set up earlier. Not a permanent fixture, just the essential things he needed to move easily around the cemetery. Hot flask filled with strong black coffee, an esky with pre-made meals and snacks to keep him energised. Of course, there was always a small bottle of Kentucky Bourbon for after dealing with the more difficult apparitions. Or to warm him up on the extremely cold winters nights.

His belly began to growl, fighting apparitions also made him extremely hungry.

He quickly chugged down some coffee and ate a sandwich and headed back up the hill to the family vault section. He felt confident that the night would be an easy one especially if all the apparitions were as easy as Martin Mayfield’s had been.

Joshua Kensington was expected any moment. Twenty-two-year-old, motor bike crash victim. The watcher swaggered towards the crypts. He felt the familiar signs taking over his body as he advanced closer towards the crypt. The apparition of Joshua Kensington was already out and he looked angry. This was going to take all his strength to catch this one. Joshua Kensington wasn’t going down easy he swerved right and left growling as he went. The apparition charged at the watcher. From behind his back the watch flung the salt at the apparition, but it was quick to swerve, the salt tearing strips from its back as it did so. The apparition screamed in pain but returned for another charge at the watcher, and managing to knock him to the ground. The watcher, laying on his back pulled his valuder and slammed it into the chest of the apparition as it flung itself on top of him and Joshua Kensington was no more.

This apparition had taken some serious strength from the watcher. He lay on his back barely breathing. When an apparition touched the watcher, which did happen on the odd occasion it could bring the watcher very closely to deaths door. He had made a huge mistake underestimating Joshua Kensington’s apparition. Now he would pay the lot penalty.

‘The Watcher’s Watch, so the Dead can rest’

The End