I sit upon my bed as I await night to embrace my neighborhood.Everything so peaceful and calm in the streets that lay before my house.Nothing abnormal has been seen by anyone.Every night before I let my eyelids sink into place I gaze upon my neighborhood,hoping to find something out of its place.Yet every night is the same.Sirens of ambulances rushing to the hospital across the street from us.Sometimes we get a few helicopters over our roof tops but never anything exciting and worth running and telling someone.Sometimes I am still awake as our neighbor gets in his car and drives away to his graveyard shift at his job.I am no stalker though.i am just watching for trouble ever since that night.

One night we heard someone knocking on our door in a panic.My mother beat my brother and I to the door warning us to stay clear of the window and to stop being nosy.Yet we may have stayed away from the window but we stayed in earshot.She looked through the peep hole and then to us.The house was filled with tension as everything went silent.She unlocked the hinges on the door and opened it to see a woman who seemed to be suffering.I stared blankly at her as she stifled her tears.My mom seemed very calm and sympathetic.I couldn't help but feel bad for the stranger. "Hello," the lady choked.

"What's wrong?" my mother asked her voice filled with concern." My house was robbed," she explained as a tear rolled down her cheek.Those words hit me hard.I listened more intently as the girl continued. "I was wondering if you saw anything strange," I gulped as I remembered the strange motorcycle that I saw during the middle of the day.I knew that was the first time that motorcycle had ever been in this neighborhood.It stopped at this person's house and the tall man that had stepped off of the vehicle I later figured out was part of her family.My mom looked at the woman again,"Have you called the police?" she asked looking into the lady's eyes.

"Yes,"she answered quietly.My eyes grew wide with shock as I noticed the boy standing beside her for the first time.He was my age and I had noticed he seemed to show no emotion.My mom told us to stay inside as she and this woman would wait outside for the police to show up.I can't exactly remember if the boy stayed in the house with us or not but I remember thinking I could try to save the day by watching the streets every night so that if anything like this had ever happened again I might be able to help.As a year passed bye I began to think it was hopeless yet I would still watch the streets at night because the city's sights soothed me and would always rock me to sleep.Every night as I watch the streets I can only think of how peaceful and beautiful everything looks with the glow of the street lights and the soft whispers of cars rushing bye farther in the distance.Nothing has ever seemed so relaxing to me.Most people would consider me a stalker for these strange actions I presume.Yet I do not watch the people of the city but the city itself.I am no feeble stalker just a guardian of the night.