A/N: This is just a random piece I came up with when I was bored.

The Watcher

I stand in the shadows of the alleyway, watching, waiting. I watch the people walk past me on the street. There are so many people, with so many lives, doing so many things. I wonder who they are. I wonder if they have a family, a husband, a wife, a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a son, or a daughter.

A family; something I don't have. Surely I came from somewhere though. Maybe I had parents at one point too. But I don't remember. Sometimes, I think I do. Sometimes, when I'm sleeping, I hear voices. I don't recognize them though. Then again, I tend to hear voices when I'm awake too, so who knows. Maybe it's just a dream, or maybe it's a memory. I can never tell.

Sometimes I wonder; did I ever have brothers or sisters? If I did, I can't remember them. I wonder what happened to them. If I had family, why did they leave me? Did I do something wrong?

But I stop wondering soon. Wondering brings questions and uncertainty. I don't like uncertainty. I like being certain about my life. My life is constant. I sit and watch. Sometimes I sleep and sometimes I go scavenge for food, at least I think I do. I must because I could not survive without food. I don't remember much though. I forget a lot of things. I never know what day it is or what time it is. Is it Sunday? Monday? Tuesday? What comes after Tuesday? I can't remember. I have an idea of time by watching the people. In the morning they come, in the evening they go.

Sometimes I like to give the people names. There's one guy I've named Billy. He comes and goes at the same time every day. At least I think it's the same time. I don't have a watch, so I can't really tell what time it is. He always wears this black suit that makes him look funny. He always fiddles with the tie around his neck. It looks very uncomfortable, so why does he wear it? I don't know. Some times people do funny things. If that clothing makes Billy uncomfortable, why does he wear it? Sometimes I think I'm the sane one and everyone else is insane.

Then there's Rose. I call her rose because of her bright red hair. She's the little girl that lives just down the street. She is always wear cute little dresses. Her bright red curls always bounce merrily. I like red. I think it looks good on her. I named her mother Margaret. Margaret takes Rose to the bus stop five days a week where she gets picked up by a big yellow bus. I don't like yellow. I prefer red, like Rose's hair. I wonder where she goes? Does she go to school? I wonder if school is fun. I never went to school, at least not that I can remember. Then again, I can't remember anything.

There's this one lady I like to call Stork-woman because she reminds me of a stork when she wobbles along on the ridiculous high-heeled shoes she always wears. She always wears a suit like Billy, except she wears a skirt. She always wears her brown hair up in a bun. I don't like brown hair. I like red hair like Rose's.

There is a bunch of other people too, but I can't remember the names I gave them. I like making up stories about the people I see with the help of the voices. I like the voices, they always come up with the most interesting stories.

I've sat at this corner everyday for a long time. This place is sheltered from the wind and most of the rain and snow. When I need to sleep, I curl up in my little corner. I can always see the street and the people walking by. I don't know why, but I find watching the traffic on the street comforting. The noise from the street is my lullaby.

I'm all alone here. But that doesn't matter. I have the voices for company. The voices talk to me. When I'm sad they comfort me. When I am happy they're happy too.

Some people say I'm insane, that the voices aren't real. I probably am insane. But if so, I like being insane. After all, if I were sane, the voices wouldn't be there. Then I would have no one to talk to. I would get lonely without them. The voices might not be real. But I don't care.

I don't know why I sit here, day after day. I feel like I'm waiting for something, or someone. But they never come. What am I waiting for? I never know. All I know is I'm waiting, for something.

So, as the days pass by I'll sit here and watch, and wait. I'll stay here as long as I have to. I'll never stop watching. I'll never stop waiting.