Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

Rivaayat .

Horror Tragedy


2  

Rivaayat .

Horror Tragedy


The Note

The Note

2 mins 123 2 mins 123

19th May


Dear, 

I don't know why I write this. I don't remember when or why I picked my pen up. I didn't even know I was still capable of that. I don't even know whom am I writing to. To whoever cares, I guess. Anyway. Whoever finds this, I have a warning for you, for all. For humankind. Because I don't want anyone else ending up like me. Is it a day outside? Is it a night? What is night, anyway? I don't know, more likely don't care. All I know is that I am in a corner right now. In a mansion? Villa? Dungeon? Prison? Bar? Shack? Who knows. And I am surrounded. It is black. Called darkness, I guess. It is always like this. My eyes being closed, open, doesn't make a difference. And they watch me. Constantly. I can feel their stare. Right through me. As if someone pierced a hole right through my heart with a hot iron rod, but left me alive. Just. Barely. Maybe they did it, I don't know. Can't really tell the difference between blood and tears now. But, I am not afraid. I'm in pain, in agony. I'm dying. I want to. But no, I am not afraid. Not of them. They torture me. They want me to give up. But I won't. Never. But I need someone to save me. Please. Please. Save me from them. Actually, save me from me. Because I created them. I nurtured them. I allowed them to grow, giving them bits of my heart, my brain, and my soul. They fed on it and grew stronger, as I grew weaker. I grew senile. I became a decorated corpse from a human being. Now, I am not even decorated. I've started to decay. They control me now. So, you can say I killed myself. I committed suicide. Isn't it called insanity? Probably. Insanity. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Well, I see them now. Moving my corpse. Again. Last time, I didn't even have the strength to yell as they shoved me into a hole and poured dirt over me. I was so lonely. Well, here they come. I have to go. So remember my warning. Do not create them. And if you do, scream before they silence you. Take care. 


Love,

You.


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