I watch and wait and watch
I don't speak up. Not to him.
Even though we're the only two around.
I watch and wait and turn again, hanging on, holding out on everything I know, everything I see.
I don't warn him, even though I know what's wrong. I know what's happening, but I don't tell him.
I don't break my oath.
I simply watch.
And as I hear his enemy is getting ready I don't do nothing. I don't warn him. I just hold my notepad ready and take my camera. We can't miss anything for the chronicles.
I write down his every loss.
I describe in painstaking detail how his shop got burned down. Nobody called 911. Not even me.
I watch as his daughter is taken and I look on as I see his grief when he finds her body, sent to him by mail, bit by bit.
I leave a tear as his wife is killed but I just sit there, my notepad at ready, my glasses on to be sure I'm seing it correctly.
I know who's after him, but it's not up to me to tell him.
I'm a watcher, I just watch.
And the more he loses, the more I write down. Reports go through and the secretaries at the office are almost happy something is finally happening. Things had got so boring in this two bit town.
I care less and less, I force myself to do so.
It's their fault after all.
If not for their games, all those mortals wouldn't have died. So as I watch I grow to despise them.
Them and their killing, their cruelty.
And I watch as his enemy shows him the frailty of mortal lifes.
I watch as he kills children in front of him, while my subject is bound to a pole, helpless to do anything about it.
But I don't move, I don't interfere.
It's not my place.
I just watch.
I sit there, hidden safely out of sight. He can't sense me, I have nothing to worry about.
And I watch as my subject is tortured. I hear his screams, his begging for the end as he's burned alive.
And I watch and I wait.
I watch as the other finally takes his sword and kills my subject. I look at his head as it rolls my way. It nearly hits my hiding place.
I don't move, I just watch and I wait.
I wait for his enemy to be weak.
And as I take the immortals head, as he's done to so many others before, I cry "For Caleb!" at the top of my lungs.
He's too dead to care.
And then I cry, and I wait and I watch