The Watchers on the Hill
How we invented Ancient Aliens and Bigfoot
A surreal and satirical parable about a mysterious hill, a calm observer, and a town full of stories.
This is what happens when we stop observing reality… and start projecting ourselves onto it.
Video here:
There was a hill on the edge of town that no one dared to climb.
Not because it was steep or dangerous, but because there was something odd about it—a feeling you couldn't quite name. Those who stood at the base said the trees looked "off." Not wrong exactly, but as if they were... waiting.
Everyone had a story:
"I saw the branches move, but there was no wind."
"I felt like something was staring back at me."
"I climbed it once as a kid. The air up there was thick as glass."
"The eyes—the eyes on the hill are still watching me."
"The hill is actually an alien spacecraft."
And so, over the years, the hill became a myth.
One day, a quiet man named Theo decided to climb it.
He wasn't a thrill-seeker or a rebel. He was just tired—tired of opinions, tired of fear, tired of seeing people argue about things they had never actually seen for themselves.
He brought no gear, just a notebook and a calm mind.
When he reached the top, he found... a hill. Trees. Sky. Grass. Stillness.
It was breathtaking—but ordinary. He sat for an hour, breathing, watching, thinking. Then he came back down.
When the townspeople asked him what he saw, he said, "It was peaceful. Nothing strange happened."
They laughed. "You must not have gone all the way up."
"You didn't see what we saw."
Theo shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just a hill."
But word spread: someone had gone up and seen nothing unusual. That was a story in itself. So more people climbed—one by one, then in groups. And something strange did begin to happen:
Some said the hill made them feel healed.
Others claimed it brought out their deepest fears.
A few said it made them feel nothing at all.
An old lady swore she saw the face of Jesus in the bark of an oak tree. When others came to look, the pattern had vanished.
A young man who owned the local comic book store claimed he spotted Mothman watching from the edge of the woods while he stood on the summit. Never mind his mushroom-selling side business.
An armchair professor decided this proved his ancient alien theory.
The hill hadn't changed—but now it had a thousand meanings.
Every observer projected their own fears, hopes, memories, and beliefs onto it. They began to argue over its "true nature." They formed clubs, started online groups, wrote books.
But Theo just watched from a bench at the edge of town.
He smiled as the debates raged, the legends grew, and the hill—still silent, still unmoved—became more powerful than ever.
The hill did not change.
People changed when they looked at it.
They didn't see the hill.
They saw themselves.
Or maybe... maybe the comic book store owner had slipped his magic mushrooms into the town's water supply as a joke.