Library: A letter from an old friend.

A letter from an old friend by, Ratza Vitjamuna the gloomy storyteller Greeting, old pal. First off, don't panic, I am already dead when you read this. I'm writing this letter to you because I am scared. Scared of something really horrible. It makes me shiver to even think about it. And, it is you who I love the most, so it will be you who gets this letter. It all began on the same day the winter began. I mean, the first snow flakes fell from the sky and covered the land. You know, it can get unbelievably dark at nights and even in the afternoons at that time of year. I had been writing for almost the whole day. As you probably remember, my work room has a large window and a desk against it. The first flakes of the winter were incredibly beautiful. They had been inspiring me during that particular day, so much that I even forgot to eat anything. Suddenly I woke up. My stomach really growled. I decided to pause my work for a while, and get something to chew on. On my way to kitchen I saw a fly, buzzing and looking kinda dizzy, bouncing at the kitchen door. "Someone hasn't noticed the winter yet" I thought. I was spooning up peasoup (with mustard and some onion slices of course) when I saw the fly again. It seemed a bit bigger than the last time. As if it had wanted really to be seen and noticed. It flew weirdly towards me and landed on the rim of my soup plate. I felt it looked straight in my eyes and little deeper too. "You've gotta run." I heard a voice inside my head. I spat out some of the soup. I also inhaled a small part of it and started coughing massively. "Don't look back." The voice continued. I had to obey it. I knew right away there was something evil everywhere around me now. So I ran. I bashed the front door open, and ran into the darkness. Damn, it was cold. I felt eyes watching me leave and something following. I was freezing, and it made me run even faster. What is this? Why am I bothered like this? Who wants me dead? Something touched me in the back. I kept running, I didn't want to look back. It felt like 20 sharp knives cutting and digging holes in my skin. I fell in the snowdrift and blacked out. I thought I was dead. No memory. I woke up, lying on the bed. I realized I was in a hospital. I watched out from the window. It was a morning, I guess. I slowly recalled, what had happened. Who had brought me here? I saw a button near my bed. Button was on a panel, and the panel read: "Call nurse". I tried pressing it for a while. Soon the door opened and someone came in. I asked why I was here and who had brought me. Nurse went to the window, faced it and started muttering. "Don't worry, we will be allright..." I felt the voice in my head and it hurted inside. It was just like he had talked in my head with thousand mouths. "Anything else...?" Damn, I thought my head was exploding. I couldn't answer anything. Nurse slowly turned around and started walking away. It was wearing a long, hooded, white jacket. The hood was on its head. I tried to see its face when it turned, but I saw nothing. It came closer to me and said: "I will get the doctor here." It really didn't have a face. My heart started thumping like a piston in a cylinder. The creature walked away. I decided to escape from this nightmare. I threw all the hoses away from me, stood up and tried to find out where to exit. The window was easy to open and the room was located in first floor, so I went from there. I knew where I was, it was the city hospital. Why have they all gone mad there? Or is it me who is mad here? I tried to forget everything and started running home. It felt a bit safer in the daylight. I got home. I tried opening the door carefully. Everything seemed OK. I went to the kitchen and saw the fly again. It buzzed at me again. "So you looked back, tsk, tsk." BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. I knew I was going to die now. I went in my work room and started this letter to you. I warn you, don't come searching. Tell everyone that I miss and love them too. Yours truly, Mortel.

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Library: A letter from an old friend.