Three Can Keep A Secret

Three can keep a secret. Shadowy and undefined, hunched over, perhaps slightly deformed. Some folk in the streets whispered in hushed tones the words, "mutation," "freaks," or "accident of nature," but all in speculation, or more aptly in desperation to explain that which cannot be.

Around these three was the distinct air of the unreal, a strange difference in atmosphere that was just out of grasp. It was like the words on the tip of the tongue, the straining to retain that waking thought.

Chronologically it seemed they were out of sync. Their movements somewhat disjointed and in features always slightly unfocused. Much of the time these three seemed mostly unaware of the reality that curved around them, going about their ways, such as they were or appeared to be, as if in an obliquely divergent dimension, which for some reason encroached into here. Other times they seemed to notice this world, and would look up from their doings glancing briefly as though observing a distraction passing a window.

No one could particularly recall when this parallel vista had intruded upon the shadowy courtyards of the old part of our city. Some say it began as shadows, cast from the high-rise peaks that blotted the sun, leaving mournful streets of depressing grey. Others say it was always there, but overlooked, how they couldn't say. Most who passed on by did so with heads slightly down, eyes averted, as though willing themselves no to see that which could not be  perhaps all to aware that they looked into the soul of the city, unwilling to face their shadows.

None did stop to stare, not even the children, although stories nonetheless abound, about those bogeymen and what they allegedly did to those who didn't sleep at night. Alternatively it was these three who were credited with the nightmare that some suffered, awakening with a start, a scream, drenched in the cold night sweat.

There were even names bestowed, by whom originally it is not known. Snake-eyes, Eightball and Thirteen. Nor was it remembered why they had been so called, for none could claim to have clearly seen the features to so label them. Perhaps it was more in reference to the foreboding doom they seemed to portend to those who tried to ignore.

Then one day there came a man, a stranger to our city. He came to observe these three; although how he was aware of their presence here it was not known. It was assumed that none but our city folk knew of such, that the stories had not escaped these streets. He would come and stand and stare, mostly by day and seldom at night. None dared speak to him, choosing to ignore him too, least they be forced to acknowledge the real existence of those three.

Some believed him a madman, for he seemed a little queer. He never approached those three, no notes on paper written nor photographs taken. Nor did he ever interact with anyone who passed him by, oblivious to the fact he was not alone on these lonely streets. He just stood and stared, not always in the same place, sometimes from within the shadows, other times from the doorway of a building. Mostly just in the open, though no one ever saw him arrive or depart and it was unknown where he may reside when not in the process of observing.

Some began to talk, about the observer and his relation to the observed. Some did feel he was responsible for them being there, that the observed required an observer.