Eyes of the Watcher

Deep Within The Forest, Lays A Presence.

3:30 pm, October 3rd, 1999.

“How long is this trail?” demanded Jim’s weary voice, exhausted from the 80-mile hike.

“Not much longer, lad.” Norman had a deep, booming, voice with a subtle hint of a Scottish accent. He was our guide through the 80,000 acres of land that is the Haliburton forest. Me and my best friend Jim Benwell had been camping together in the forest, and had decided to take a break from our solo and hire a guide to show us the interesting features of the forest.

I looked around at the vast expanse of green all around us. “It would be so easy to get lost out here.” I stated cheerfully, as if it was a piece of secret knowledge. We continued to walk on, without a worry in the world. The forest was strangely quiet, and the birds had stopped chirping.

I could actually hear my own heartbeat, only interrupted by the gentle sound of boots clomping on dirt. We were near a bunch of boulders that had moss grown on them. I first took it as nothing, but I noticed something shiny near one of them; a golden necklace with the photo of two children, a boy and a girl.

They could not have been more then 8 or 9, but the face of the boy was ripped out of the photo. I thought that it must have belonged to someone and took it, so I could return it to the administration and they could see who it belonged too.

6:30 pm, October 3rd, 1999

I took a swig from my bottle as we sat at the rest site. It was peaceful, and there was only the rustling of some leaves behind us, and the occasional crack of a branch. Our guide decided to tell us an urban legend about a family that came here. Apparently, the father went insane and killed his wife, cutting her up and burying her parts across the forest. The mother managed to get the children to run away, at the expense of her own live. The kids had and father had never been heard from since, but it’s rumored that the boy, in a savage act of self-defense, smashed his father’s head in with a rock.

The rustling continued. It was most likely a rabbit or something equally small and furry. After a few minutes of rest, and a little chilled of the legend Norman told us, we continued on. I felt like I was being watched, but there was absolutely nothing around. I shook as a chill ran down my spine. I took another swig from my bottle. The sun was now only poking out of the horizon, which was normal this time of year in Canada. The forest was now turning to an eerie shade of grey, and the sky was dark orange. As we travelled up a small hill, I noticed something peculiar; there was a rustling sound behind us, identical to the one we heard earlier. Our guide obviously heard it too; he told us we should pick up the pace to get back to base camp.

7:00 pm, October 3rd, 1999

Once we got back to the cabin, I decided to use my computer to check Facebook and my e-mail. Decidedly, my laptop was not getting the best connection in the middle of nowhere, but it WAS something. When my laptop fired up, however, I noticed something unearthly creepy; there was a file on my desktop called “EYES.exe”. I have no idea how it got on my computer. Someone must of tampered with it. As strange as I found this, my curiosity got the better of me and I booted it up.

After a bit of loading, my screen went black momentarily then began to play a video. It was completely silent except for slight static, and nothing could be made out except for the sky due to the pitch darkness. I looked out of the glassless screen windows and noticed that it looked eerily like what was portrayed on my laptop. It could have been filmed yesterday, I thought to myself. Then I noticed something strange. Some lights were beginning to emerge in the video and they were approaching the camera very quickly. I squinted a bit and realised that the lights were in-fact coming from the windows of a house... Or a cabin.

I looked outside again. The sound of rustling was getting closer and closer, nearer and nearer to the cabin. A lump developed in my throat. This must be some sort of practical joke that the staffs were playing on us. Suddenly, the rustling stops, and I look at the computer. I could clearly see myself sitting at the computer, as the thing stared at me. I looked out my window at where it should have been, but it was gone. I look back at the computer, and I see myself looking at my own back. I jerk my head back, and it’s was right behind me.

Dear god, it was awful. It looked like a normal boy, but he was wearing a mask. No, it... It was a human face, tied around his head. He stood there, unmoving. His head slowly began to tilt to the side. It kept going and going until it was leaning beyond what should have been possible. I was paralyzed with fear, and all I could do was stare at the boy. I then realize he was most likely the boy from the picture and the legend, but that was impossible! He was wearing the same clothes, if not ripped and dirty.

He slowly limped towards me. As the floorboards creaked, my pulse quickened. He lumbered up to me, and yanked my hand towards him with superhuman strength. He took out a small knife and drew a triangle into my palm. It was surprisingly painful, and the blood my hand drew was dripping everywhere. I winced in pain, but when I opened my eyes, the boy, and the blood, were gone. I glanced around, and locked my cabin door.

I took a seat at my computer, still shaking violently. The program has closed. I tried opening it again, but it is simply met with an error message, followed by a long bit of binary code:

01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01010111 01100001 01110100 01100011 01101000 01100101 01110010 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101111 01101101 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101110 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01101000 01101001 01100100 01100101 00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01110010 01110101 01101110 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 00100000 01110011 01100101 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 00100000 01110100 01100001 01110011 01110100 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101110 01101111 00100000 01100101 01110011 01100011 01100001 01110000 01100101 00101110.

I have no idea what it means, but ever since that fateful night, the presence has been following me for 14 years. It’s been lurking out of the corner of my eye. I swear I have seen it in my home. Wherever I go, it’s there, and it has ruined my life. I am writing this to tell my story to anyone who might listen, and to avoid repeating my curse. I don't know why it’s following me, and I don't care anymore. All I know is that there is only one way out of this. Tonight, I will end my curse. Tonight, I will end my life.