THE WATCHER ON THE ROOF
1867 Words
For a moment, Emberly couldn’t breathe.
The city around her—the passing buses, the headlights, the steam rising from a sewer grate—went silent. All noise dissolved into a ringing hum inside her mind.
Across the street.
On the rooftop.
Above the glowing sign of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy…
He stood there.
The same impossible height.
The same unnatural stillness.
The same cold presence that made her stomach collapse into itself.
But now, she could see more.
The faint outline of shoulders far too angular.
A tilt of the head that felt inhumanly precise.
The long shape of arms hanging motionless at his sides.
He faced her.
Only her.
Elias grabbed her hand instinctively. “Emberly—don’t look at him. Don’t—”
But she couldn’t look away.
The world had narrowed to a single point:
The figure watching her from the rooftop.
A single car passed through her line of sight. When it cleared—
The rooftop was empty.
He was gone.
Emberly’s knees nearly buckled. Elias steadied her.
“Emberly,” he whispered. “We need to leave. Now.”
She nodded shakily, unable to form words.
They blended into the group of commuters as a bus hissed to a stop in front of them. Elias guided her on with a gentle grip, paying their fare before leading her to the back, away from the windows.
Emberly slid into the seat and pressed her trembling hands between her thighs, trying to still them. Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened window—pale skin, wide eyes, hair clinging to her damp temples. She barely recognized herself.
Elias sat beside her, scanning the people on the bus with tense eyes.
“Where are we going?” Emberly whispered, her throat tight.
“My friend’s place,” he murmured without looking at her. “He lives across town. No one will know we’re there.”
No one except him, Emberly thought.
Her pulse thudded painfully.
Elias reached out and took her hand, grounding her for just a moment. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m with you. You’re not facing this alone.”
Her lip trembled. “But he’s following us. No matter where we go—”
“We’ll deal with that,” Elias said. “We’re not going to let some psycho shadow ruin your life.”
Emberly stared out the window again.
This wasn’t just a psycho shadow.
This was the man from her nightmares.
The man from her childhood.
The man she had somehow forgotten—and now remembered in fragments that made her spine freeze.
And he wasn’t just following her.
He was controlling the game.
---
The Bus Ride
The bus rattled through the city streets—past rows of darkened apartment buildings, past diners glowing with fluorescent light, past alleys swallowing themselves in shadow. Emberly tried not to think, but memories bled through cracks in her mind.
Her mother’s voice on the cassette tape.
Her mother’s fear.
Her mother whispering:
“He always finds his way back.”
Emberly swallowed against the lump rising in her throat.
Her mother had known.
Her mother had fought him.
Her mother had left warnings—
Warnings Emberly had never understood because her mother never explained what happened that night. She had always shut down questions, always changed the topic, always forced a smile that never fully reached her eyes.
And eventually, Emberly learned not to ask about the nightmares.
Not to mention the man in the corner.
Not to acknowledge she saw him at all.
Not to remember.
Her mother had wanted her to forget.
And Emberly had obeyed.
Until now.
Elias nudged her gently. “Next stop. We get off here.”
The bus slowed beside a row of shuttered shops and neon-lit laundromats. Emberly followed Elias into the chilly night air. The wind cut through her jacket, raising goosebumps along her arms.
Elias glanced up and down the street.
“Stay close,” he whispered. “He won’t risk approaching in a busy area.”
The street wasn’t exactly busy—but it wasn’t deserted either. People milled around outside a late-night burger place, and a few taxis waited near the corner. Emberly tried to take comfort in their presence.
But her stomach twisted anyway.
Elias led her down a quieter side street lined with brick buildings. He stopped at a metal door with peeling paint and buzzed an intercom.
A voice crackled through.
“Yeah?”
“Lennox, it’s Elias.”
A pause.
“…What the hell are you doing here at midnight?”
“I need your help.”
Another pause. Then the lock buzzed.
Elias pushed the door open and motioned her inside.
---
Lennox
The hallway reeked faintly of cigarette smoke and old carpet. Emberly followed Elias up a narrow stairway, her fingers grazing the railing for balance. A dim light flickered overhead.
At the top, Elias knocked on a door.
It opened unceremoniously.
A man with messy dark hair, three-day stubble, and half-lidded eyes stood in the doorway wearing sweatpants and a faded band T-shirt. He blinked at Elias.
“You look like hell,” Lennox said flatly.
Elias pushed past him. “It’s urgent.”
Lennox’s eyes shifted to Emberly.
She stiffened.
His gaze wasn’t judgmental—just slowing, analyzing, as though cataloging her fear from one glance.
“You too,” he muttered. “Get inside.”
Emberly stepped into the apartment.
It was cluttered—coffee mugs, stacks of newspapers, two computer towers with cases removed, wires snaked across the floor like vines. The glow from multiple monitors bathed the room in white-blue light.
Lennox closed the door behind them and locked it.
Then locked the second deadbolt.
And the chain.
And a sliding metal bar Emberly didn’t even know existed on apartment doors.
Her anxiety spiked.
Elias caught her glance. “He has trust issues.”
“Paranoia keeps me alive,” Lennox corrected, brushing past them to sit at his desk. “Now talk.”
Elias exchanged a look with Emberly.
Her throat felt like it was closing, but she forced herself to speak.
“I… I think someone is following me.”
Lennox raised an eyebrow. “That happens in cities. Annoying, not unusual.”
“This isn’t normal,” she whispered. “He breaks into my apartment without the locks changing. He leaves recordings. He appears on rooftops. He—”
“Hold up.” Lennox frowned. “Appears?”
Emberly nodded weakly.
“He doesn’t always walk,” she said. “Sometimes he’s just… there.”
Lennox leaned back.
His demeanor shifted from annoyed to something harder, sharper.
“What does he want?”
Emberly swallowed. “He wants me to remember something. Something from my childhood.”
“What?”
“I—” Emberly shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know.”
Lennox stared for a long moment.
Then he turned to Elias.
“You believe her?”
“Every word,” Elias said without hesitation.
Lennox sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You two are either insane, sleep-deprived, or something actually dangerous is going on. So let's test a theory.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out a laptop.
“What theory?” Elias asked.
Lennox typed rapidly. “If someone’s stalking you this intensely, they’ll have left digital traces. Maybe phone spoofing, tower pings, camera tampering. I want to see the messages he sent you.”
Emberly’s hand shook as she handed him her phone.
Lennox plugged it in and began scanning.
Lines of code rolled across the screen.
Emberly clenched her hands in her lap.
Elias sat beside her on the couch, his presence warm and comforting. He leaned close and whispered, “You’re safe here.”
She wished she believed that.
Lennox suddenly stopped typing.
His eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Uh… Elias?”
Elias straightened. “What is it?”
Lennox pointed at the screen. “This isn’t normal.”
“What’s not normal?” Emberly asked.
Lennox’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
“The messages he sent you,” he said. “The photos. The audio file. They didn’t come from a phone.”
Emberly’s breath hitched.
Elias frowned. “Then from what?”
Lennox swallowed.
“There’s no device ID,” he muttered. “No IMEI. No carrier signature. No location stamp. Nothing.”
Emberly’s hands grew cold.
“What does that mean?” she whispered.
Lennox looked at her.
His voice softened.
“It means the messages didn’t come from any traceable technology.”
Emberly’s lungs tightened.
“Then how—”
He shook his head slowly.
“They appeared on your device without coming from anywhere.”
Elias stared.
“What do you mean appeared?”
“I mean,” Lennox said, “they popped into her phone like… like someone bypassed the entire global cellular network and wrote directly onto the hardware.”
“That’s impossible,” Elias said.
Lennox nodded. “Exactly.”
A shiver crawled up Emberly’s spine.
Lennox turned toward her with a new expression—concern mixed with something darker.
“Emberly… can you tell me exactly when this started?”
Emberly hugged her arms around herself. “A few days ago. No—longer. Weeks. I think he’s been watching for weeks.”
“And before that?” Lennox asked. “Anything unusual? People from your past? Old memories resurfacing?”
Emberly hesitated.
Her childhood bedroom.
The closet door open.
Her mother saying, He came back.
And the man in the corner.
“He used to watch me,” Emberly whispered. “When I was a child. My mother tried to make me forget.”
Lennox exhaled. “Whoever—or whatever—is doing this doesn’t want you to forget anymore.”
The hairs on Emberly’s arms stood.
Elias whispered, “So what do we do?”
Lennox cracked his knuckles. “First, we try to track him. If he’s human, I’ll find him. If he’s not…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
But before Emberly could ask more—
Her phone buzzed.
A message flashed across Lennox’s screen.
Lennox’s face drained of color.
“Emberly…” Elias whispered.
Emberly’s hands trembled as she leaned forward to read it.
One simple line.
You shouldn’t have gone to him.
Then—
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went out.
The room plunged into darkness.
Elias grabbed Emberly’s hand.
“Lennox?” he called. “Where’s your flashlight?”
But Lennox didn’t answer.
Emberly’s heart seized.
“Lennox?” she whispered.
Something moved in the dark.
Not Lennox.
Not Elias.
Something taller.
Something heavier.
A silhouette forming at the far edge of the room—too tall to fit beneath the ceiling comfortably, yet somehow it did.
Elias cursed softly, pulling Emberly behind him.
The figure didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just stood there.
In the dark.
In Lennox’s living room.
Blocking the only door.
Emberly’s breath trembled.
Elias whispered, “Emberly… don’t look at him.”
But Emberly felt his gaze pulling at her—slowly, relentlessly—like gravity.
She lifted her gaze.
The figure stepped forward.
And the room grew colder.
- Writer
