This is probably my second or third thread, but, can't seem to find any of those right now. So, figured, I'd start afresh. It's been quite a while since I've been on AG. Anyhow - Here's a short story. Don't quite have a title for it, it was something we had to write in school. Theme was just: A Letter
I strolled down the stairs and slumped into a leather armchair and flicked on the TV. Proceeding through the channels, the colours blurred past. If I had known at that moment the upcoming events; I wouldâve hid myself off the face of the earth. As the postman rattled on the door, I groaned loudly and pulled myself off the chair. Opening the door, I looked at him tiredly as he held out three white envelopes one that looked a bit, dampened and a brown package, he held out a delivery docket as I scanned through the words and signed my name across the dotted line. I opened the layers of tape concealing the cardboard box, as I ripped off the last layer, I realized there was nothing in the box but a few scraps off paper, and tossed it to the side. I picked up the dampened envelope that nearly tore in my hands, gently peeling off the top; I peered inside the shoddy old envelope that revealed a few pieces of parchment. The ink was smudged, making the letter near impossible to read. After looking closely and carefully at the letter, I had made out what it had said: âI know what youâve done â" I will hunt you down and kill you. Do not try to hide. I will find you. Shall you report this â" You will be found faster. This is not a threat. You will die.â The letter made me stumble in my steps. Who would want to kill me? Was this a joke? I didnât know what to believe from that point onward. Instinctively, I headed for the stairs. My heart was racing; I stuffed a few of my possessions into a bag and fled from my home. I felt numb walking around the streets. Was my whole life going to cave in? Should I have just given up? Whatâs the point of running if itâs death youâre hiding from? I was second-guessing my whole existence. Every person that walked passed me; I looked at them twice, analysing their face to see if they looked like a psychotic killer. I thought I was getting paranoid. I didnât know where I was going, I just continued to walk, dusty road by dusty road. Darkness covered the every so enlightening brightness. I collapsed onto the saturated, dewy grass. I began to reflect on my life from the past few weeks, where had it all gone wrong? What did I do to tip off the killer? Nighttime sounds flooded my frozen ears. As uncomfortable the ground was, I drifted away into a terrifying sleep. It was the middle of the day, I was sitting on a jagged cliff, as I peered over the edge to see the water flowing gracefully, sparkling in the sunlight. There was nobody else around, but I felt apprehensive. I kept hearing a rustling noise a few feet away from me, but didnât see anything. Paranoia mustâve been catching up upon me again. I lay back on the rocky cliff and felt something dig into my back. Blood spewed out of my body as I lay there unconsciously. I woke up with beads of sweat rolling down my face. Nightmares. That wasnât the last one I had either. Theyâre my dreams. Why couldnât I control what happened in them?
