Night Watch Duty

It was a quiet Friday night, and I was the only one assigned to patrol the neighborhood. My usual companions had all given excuses, leaving me alone to walk the dimly lit streets. Armed with nothing but a flashlight and my trusty stick to strike the metal utility poles, I moved from corner to corner, signaling to the sleeping residents that their homes were being watched over. The rhythmic clang of metal echoed through the silence, a sound both reassuring and eerie. As I passed by houses with faint glimmers of light still shining through the curtains, I occasionally noticed strange figures lurking in the shadows. Despite the growing unease, I knew my duty: if something went wrong, I had to strike the pole repeatedly to alert the entire neighborhood and summon help. But tonight, something felt off, as if the usual threat of a thief had been replaced by something far more sinister.

Just as I began to dismiss my creeping paranoia, I encountered a figure behaving strangely. This wasn’t a typical criminal hiding in the shadows; their movements were erratic, almost otherworldly. They seemed less interested in theft and more focused on some unseen turmoil. They muttered to themselves, their eyes darting around as though haunted by things I couldn’t see. The air grew heavier with every step, and a chill ran down my spine. Even as I raised my stick to strike the pole in warning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a threat that could be scared away by noise or crowds. Whatever this was, it didn’t belong in the realm of ordinary danger—it was something far more unnerving, something I wasn’t prepared to face alone.