I'm starting another **very long, dark tale**.This is story number **9: "The Watcher at Beachy Head"**—one of the most sinister legends in southern England.--

# 🌊 **9. "The Watcher at Beachy Head"—a very long horror story**

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## *Prologue: White Cliffs and a Black Shadow*

Beachy Head is famous for its majestic white chalk cliffs that plunge straight into the sea.

Tourists are drawn there for its natural beauty, photographers for its breathtaking views.

But the locals have a different opinion.

They say these cliffs aren't white.

They're **bleached**.

And that someone stands there.

Every night.

On the very edge.

Still as a statue, but... breathing.

The locals call him **The Watcher**.

Some say that if you look him in the face, you'll see your own death.

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# ⚓ *Chapter I: The Man Who Made a Ghost Documentary*

Daniel Hayworth was an amateur filmmaker who ran an online channel about the paranormal.

Most of his content was straightforward: abandoned houses, abandoned shelters, attics with strange noises.

Views were growing.

Sponsors were becoming interested.

But Daniel wanted more.

He wanted proof that would reach the media.

Something to destroy skepticism.

Then he came across an article about Beachy Head and its dark reputation.

Drownings.

Suicides.

People saying they saw "someone on the cliff" just before jumping.

Someone claimed the figure was... waving at them.

Daniel set out the next evening with a 4K camera, a drone, directional microphones, and an enthusiastic conviction:

"If there's something here, I'll film it."

He didn't know better than to film **him**.

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# 🌫️ *Chapter II: First Night - A Figure on the Edge*

At sunset, the cliffs looked like blades of ice stuck into the sea.

Daniel set up his equipment and launched the drone.

From above, he saw:

• seagulls,

• waves crashing against the rocks,

• empty, peaceful spaces.

But as the drone swung toward the western cliff, the camera captured something that took Daniel's breath away.

At the very edge, with its back to the camera, stood a **figure**.

Motionless.

Slender.

Clad in what looked like an old-fashioned coat.

The drone, despite the gusts, began to shake in the air.

Daniel zoomed in.

The figure stood absolutely still.

Like a sculpture.

But when the drone rotated a few degrees…

the figure moved its head.

It wasn't a natural rotation.

Not 10 degrees, not 20 degrees.

The figure turned its head **180 degrees** without moving the rest of its body.

And looked straight into the lens.

Daniel immediately pulled the drone back, and then…

it lost signal.

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# 🌘 *Chapter III: A Mark in the Sand*

Daniel went to the cliff with a flashlight.

The wind was picking up, but there was still enough light to see something.

At the edge of the cliff, right where the figure had been standing, he saw a footprint.

Not a footprint.

Not a shoeprint.

Just **one, long, deep groove**, as if someone were dragging a metal rod across chalk.

The groove ended at the edge, and beneath it, on a rocky ledge, something hung:

**a fragment of cloth**—gray, jagged.

Daniel touched it.

It was cold as ice—despite the warm summer night.

Then he heard a voice.

Not loud.

Not entirely human.

> *“Don’t look down…”*

Daniel turned abruptly.

No one.

The sea rocked calmly, as if nothing bad could happen.

But the voice sounded right behind him.

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# 🕯️ *Chapter IV: Night Footage—A Face That Shouldn’t Be There*

At the guesthouse, Daniel reviewed the footage from the drone camera.

His heart was racing.

At one point, the image began to distort.

Streaks, blurs, dark artifacts appeared.

And then…

In one frame, he saw a face.

Pale.

Eyeless.

With thin, cracked lips stretched in a parody of a smile.

The face belonged to the Observer.

Daniel scrolled through the image frame by frame.

In each frame, the face got closer and closer.

In the last… it was literally centimeters from the lens.

Even though the drone was in the air.

And then the camera showed something that completely defied logic.

In the reflection of the eyes—or rather, empty eye sockets—Daniel saw…

**himself**.

Standing on the cliff.

Exactly where he had been during the recording.

And next to him… that figure.

Looking directly at him.

But Daniel remembered:

There was no one there.

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# 🌊 *Chapter V: Second Night — Cliff Descent*

Daniel returned, this time with a headlamp and a live camera.

He wanted to say to the viewers:

"If anything happens... you'll be witnesses."

But the words caught in his throat.

When he reached the cliff, he saw two things:

**1. A new groove in the chalk. Longer.

2. Footprints, as if someone were crawling.**

And something else.

A voice.

> *"You're closer than you think."*

Then the sand beneath his feet began to crumble.

Daniel tried to move away, but the edge of the cliff caved in.

He fell onto a ledge.

The impact took his breath away.

When he looked up...

The observer was standing a few meters away.

He saw him in his full form for the first time.

Tall.

Thin.

The cloak resembled wet, moldy fabric. The face was unnaturally elongated, like a mask carved from clay.

.

Mouth—too wide.

Eyes—black, bottomless holes.

The observer raised his hand.

The fingers were long, thin, like chalk rods.

Daniel retreated, but there was nowhere to go.

Behind him—a 100-meter drop.

Ahead of him—this.

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# 🌑 *Chapter VI: “What You See, Sees You”*

The observer took a step closer.

His movement was strangely fluid, as if he weren't walking, just gliding.

He didn't make a sound, not even the squeaking of his shoes.

Finally, he stopped so close that Daniel felt a cold draft of air—as if from a refrigerator.

The observer tilted his head.

> *“You were watching.”*

Daniel was shivering as if in a fever.

“I just want to understand… who you are…”

The observer tilted his head slightly to the side.

> *“I am… what sees those who look down.”*

Daniel didn’t understand.

The Watcher raised his hand and touched his forehead.

The image before Daniel’s eyes shattered like a cracking photograph.

He saw:

• people standing on the edge of a cliff,

• their faces filled with fear,

• the Watcher behind them,

• their jumps—not by choice,

• their falls.

And something else.

Himself.

He stood on the edge.

And the Watcher stood behind him.

Gazing.

> *“Anyone who sees me…

> is ultimately standing there.”*

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# 🌧️ *Chapter VII: The Last Night—and the Final Frame*

Daniel woke up on a ledge.

He couldn’t hear the waves.

He couldn’t hear the wind.

Only his own breathing.

The Watcher disappeared.

Daniel tried to climb up.

To no avail.

He set up the camera.

He wanted to broadcast one last message.

"If anyone finds this... what's here, it's not a ghost. It's not a human. It's something old. And... and it's drawing you in. It's watching. It's waiting..."

Then the camera caught something behind him.

The observer stood on the edge of the cliff above him.

He reached out.

Daniel felt the chalk shelf give way under his weight.

He fell.

The camera continued recording for a few more seconds, showing only the rippling sea.

And a single silhouette standing on the cliff.

Motionless.

Looking down.

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# 🌙 *Epilogue: The Cliff That Sees More Than Humans*

Daniel's camera was found three weeks later.

The footage was viewed by hundreds of thousands of people.

Some reported seeing a figure on the cliff at several points.

Others said there was nothing there.

But those who had been to Beachy Head at least once agreed:

**The observer is still there to this day.

And the more people who watch the video...

the more eyes he has to see.**

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