Watcher's Valley

The mist clears up before you as it reveals the deep valley you find yourself in. Mountains taller than skyscrapers flank the narrow path stretching down in a straight line. On the borders of the roads, statues. Hundreds, thousands of stone faces taller than you look right into your eyes, as if each one of them was locked directly to you. Their design is oddly humanlike. Square disproportionate heads of two or so metres, fitted with a pair of eyes, a nose, a mouth, and the total absence of any expression.

With no other way but forward, you walk down the path, shrugging off the encroaching feeling of uneasiness. Wherever you go, the statues stare you dead in the eyes, more appearing out of the woods at each step. They all look the same, yet slightly different, in a way you cannot describe. There is not a single noise in this whole alley, so much so that your footsteps are the intruders here. For the statues have two watchful eyes, they have no ears.

The more you progress, the more numerous the statues get. At some point, they are climbing over each other, completely obstructing the trees in their stillness.