Story

The birth of the Watcher's Journal...not a good day to be a mouse

I remember as a child one Halloween my mother entered my name into a contest. She went out and bought me a ballerina outfit, shoes and all. We went to the church dance where the contest was being held and I panicked. She was leaving me there along with other kids in costumes and chaperones. She said she would pick me up in an hour. I sat in a corner watching all the people. Lions, Grim Reapers, Pumpkins, Raggedy Ann and Andy's and more. It was that night I knew......a Watcher would grow within me.

I watched the gossipers in a corner, clicks of one kind or another grouped together, geeks and nerds by the punch bowl and the adults barely noticing anything but one another. I remember seeing a mouse run along the wall. No one noticed. It went quickly at times and slowly at others. It climbed to the snack table gripping the tablecloth and nestled itself while munching away. Kids were distracted with outdoing one another with the costumes. The vain full ones upfront and center.

The mouse had it's fill, waited patiently until it felt itself safe and ran off the table. The Casper saw it first giving a screech that woke the dead. Speaking of which a little Frankenstein decided to be brave and took one of the steel chairs and began to chase the mouse, banging on the floor trying to get it's prey.

I remember mentally cheering for the mouse. With all the observing I did, it was truly the only living thing in that church that caused no harm, bothered no one and merely wanted something to eat. Don't get me wrong I don't want a mouse farm, but in reality that night was the first night in many, many nights that I would research animals, their behaviors and compare them to human behavior.

A Halloween night, where a ballerina costume on a frightened shy girl who did not know a spot of ballet won the prize. As my mother walked into the church wondering why the lights were blasted on, why the music stopped and why there were kids crying she noticed the prize in my hand. A small statue of a golden cup inscribed with the year and contest name. I handed it to her while telling her of the mouse, as we walked out one of the men had the mouse by it's tail. Cornered and caught some of the kids managed to kill it. A tiny thing that according to the man would be flushed down the toilet. He walked toward the men's room and we walked toward the exit.

I looked back to the room where the kids were. The geeks, the vanities, the know it alls, and the well known ones; all talking excitedly of their story of chasing, catching and killing a mouse.

Truly at a young age I learned, humanity could be so animalistic. But confusion and questions would settle in. Mice bring diseases and multiply vastly. Should they be eliminated at sight? Should they remain the food chain level for owls? Should we just stamp out their last breath? Should it be enjoyed so much?

I also learned I loved Halloween, the night where most people let down their veil, while in disguise. The night where evil and good travel side by side. This I can see and fear not, this I learned to see until I feared it no more. This is the night the Watcher was born.

09/25/08

If fear alters behavior, you're already defeated.

~Brenda Hammond

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