The Watchers

In the hush of evening they arrived, five silent shapes in cloaks of night,
Drifting like ghosts through the village green, casting a shadow of quiet might.
Their footsteps whispered on cobblestones worn smooth by ages past,
Each heart among us tightened firm, each breath a hurried gasp.

No banners flown, no trumpet call, yet their presence shouted doom,
Our village green now felt a tomb, cloaked deep in gathering gloom.
Their voices scarce, yet powerful, a quiet chill profound,
They moved as shades, as spirits dark, across the trembling ground.

The ancient well had stood through storms, a sentinel bound in mossy stone,
Its waters black, unfathomed deep, a secret darkly kept alone.
No bucket drew its mystery out, no eyes had traced its core,
Yet now, beneath the watchers’ stare, it whispered thirst for more.

We knew it not as dread before, no shadow marked its rim,
Yet now we sensed a hunger fierce, its quiet mouth grim.
In silence we had passed it by, careless of its depth,
Unknowing we would soon concede our courage and our breath.

A stranger lingered in our midst, a weary traveller from afar,
His gaze was bright with manner warm inside our village bar.
We knew him not, nor cared to learn his journey or his name,
Yet fate decreed this wanderer would shoulder all our shame.

Their bony fingers beckoned now, their verdict swiftly told,
And we, afraid to challenge fate, watched his doom unfold.
He pleaded innocence aloud, cried mercy to our ears,
But silent eyes and sealed lips returned no words but fears.

“No crime,” he begged, “no misdeed or sin, no harm has stained my hand!”
Yet watchers, grim and resolute, prepared their cold command.
They bound him tight, wrists knotted firm, dragging him forth to fate,
And we, complicit in our fear, allowed their dreadful hate.

A gasp, a cry, a single plea – the splash swallowed his voice,
The waters claimed him hungrily, and we had made our choice.
We turned away, denying truths that haunted sleepless nights,
Convincing hearts of innocence beneath dim candle lights.

Morning’s chill brought dread anew, as watchers stood unmoved,
The well agape with hungry throat, its deadly hunger proved.
Before the sun had crowned the sky, another name was called,
A merchant known for laughter warm, a heart of love installed.

Yet laughter earned no mercy here, nor innocence reprieve,
For watchers fed on silence deep, a fearful web they weave.
His laughter died upon the air, his screams dissolved in gloom,
We blamed him softly in our hearts and whispered to our doom.

With each new dawn, fresh sacrifice, the watchers’ thirst increased,
The village green grew emptier, the well’s maw unleashed.
A blacksmith’s son who smiled bright, a widow gentle, kind,
A farmer bold, outspoken voice – all claimed by fate maligned.

We whispered quietly our doubts, yet never dared to fight,
For fear had stitched our mouths so shut, sealed close by endless night.
Each name erased, each soul consumed, we whispered soft refrain,
Not me, not mine, yet ever knew the silence bore our stain.

The mayor, trembling in his home, drew bolts to shut out dread,
While elders turned their gazes down, and hid inside their beds.
The bishop murmured pious pleas, yet heaven sent no aid,
And fear so strong had made divine intervention stayed.

A teacher rose in bravery, beseeched our courage deep,
Yet silence bound us tighter still, our hearts imprisoned steep.
We watched as wisdom bled away, absorbed by waters black,
And comforted our guilty minds with lies that filled our wrack.

Souls disappeared, one by one, the village waned and wept,
Yet watchers stayed, and the well remained, where darkest secrets slept.
We prayed they’d tire of endless thirst, that soon their fill would end,
Yet silence ever fed their strength, ensuring no amend.

No pleading voice, no shouted curse, broke through our sealed disgrace,
We learned to hide our cowardice behind each frightened face.
Each day the watchers took anew, demanding fearful toll,
And still we offered willingly, surrendered heart and soul.

Then came the night they knocked for me, a hollow sound of dread,
My heartbeat thundered fiercely loud, knowing what lay ahead.
I searched the faces I’d called friends, the ones I’d known for years,
Yet shutters closed and doors sealed tight, they drowned in silent fears.

Dragged forth toward the hungry maw, each step chilled to the bone,
Abandoned now by cowardice, condemned to drown alone.
I felt their eyes upon my back, their silence thick as night,
A thousand chances unredeemed, no courage left to fight.

I stood upon that crumbling edge, cold waters swirling deep,
And saw my village watching now, their silence still to keep.
The watchers pressed, their faces grim, devoid of mercy’s trace,
As cold regret coursed through my veins, a bitter life’s embrace.

I pleaded to the faces there, who once had called me friend,
Yet silence bound them ever tight, betrayers to the end.
The water touched my trembling toes, my breath came sharp and thin,
And I was claimed by shadows dark, that stole my life within.

Darkness choked and water clawed, and voices whispered near,
The drowned souls spoke in sorrowed tones of cowardice and fear.
“If only once you’d raised your voice, stood bravely, heart and hand,
Perhaps you’d live beneath the sun and walk upon the land.”

Yet silence breeds a heavy debt, a cost we all must pay,
And fear unchecked devours souls, its hunger won’t delay.
Beneath the waves, my heart grew still, regret my final thought,
The silent crime of cowardice, the only truth we wrought.

No marker stands to speak my name, no stone reveals my fate,
Yet silence reigns above the ground, eternal and sedate.
The watchers linger still in dusk, the well forever deep,
Consuming village after village, secrets dark to keep.

For silence serves as fertile ground, where fear can bloom unchecked,
And souls become the sacrifice that silence will select.
Until the day one voice is raised, and brave hearts reclaim their pride,
The watchers stand, the well consumes, and innocence has died.

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