Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24101790-20141224185822

He watches. From inside your walls, your street. You see him, but you don't think much of him. His eyeballs stare ready from the little holes in your wall. His hot, glowing face stares souless from out your window when you sleep at night. A watchman of the night, who is just as visible by day.

He is never gone, and always eager to hurt you, you think you can trust him until he hurts, or KILLS someone. Then you remember, remember that you USE him, not TRUST him. And most of the time we grow to forget him.

But we miss him when he's gone, and love his gifts all the same. We trust him even though we know he can harm us. After all, we need electricity.

Alstinson (talk) 18:55, December 24, 2014 (UTC) 