In an old abandoned warehouse, lives a creature. The words one might use to describe it are, if however lacking, creepy, disturbing, dark, and unnatural.
I know, because I have seen it before.
It is near the form of a giant owl, but wreathed in the essence of malice and darkness.
Its one singular, searching eye evenly pierces past the surely shrouded new night’s mist, purposefully penetrating the most mundane and false of facades. It sees personalities and eventualities, forgeries and perjuries. It sees through trial to what is at the heart, through time to what is in every part.
Everything seen by such an eye, put in a group, to a whole would