A Depressing Story: The End?


“What happens next?” someone asked. “I don’t know, that’s the only thing that this person wrote in this diary,” the other person replied. “Well, that doesn’t sound like a diary to me,” the younger person said. “Everything written in it is real. The explosion did happen,” the elder person said as he closed the book that they found in the middle of the woods. “Well then, the younger person said,” I guess we need to keep on searching. “Look no further,” a voice said.

The two people looked at each other than, at the voice. At first, they saw a silhouette of what looked like a man but then as the figure got closer, they decided that it was a woman. The woman looked at her early 40s but there was something significant about her. She seemed to be covering her neck. “What do you mean by look no further?” the older person said. “I know the person who wrote the diary,” the woman said. Picking up the diary, the woman opened the first page and started to read buts he read another story:

I walked inside the house but nobody was there. Climbing up the stairs, I checked every room to see if the bastard was hiding anywhere in my huge mansion but it seemed that he wasn’t. “How could we be wrong,” my inner and brain voice said simultaneously. Frantically, I bust opened every door, looked inside every cupboard but he wasn’t there. I walked into the kitchen and saw that nothing was touched since I left the house.

Taking my torchlight that was running out of battery, I flashed it to the carpet and saw stains. It was the stain of blood that got there because John had stabbed my lawyer. “Where is he anyway?” my brain voice asked, wondering where my lawyer went. Sitting down on my couch, I decided that instead of John, I would play the waiting game and I was right. An hour later, something that sounded like a person dragging an axe was captured by my sensitive hearing. “Come in John,” I said. “Hell had been waiting for your arrival,” I continued.

The person was John and he was holding an axe in his right hand. “What took you so long?” I asked. “I was preparing for your funeral long before you die,” John said and I knew he was trying to say more but I couldn’t bother to listen so, I pulled the trigger but obviously it was filled with blanks because the next thing I heard was John laughing his chest out. “You think I will leave a loaded gun in the house you idiot!” he shouted and swung the axe towards me.

Missing me by only a few inches, I fell to the ground and all my braveness was gone. He swung his axe once more but that missed me too. “Wait!” I shouted. “Don’t you want to know why I killed your daughters!” I said and he stopped. “I don’t want to know why” he replied. The axe was a few inches off my face when I shouted, “It’s because they were idiots! Just like you!” I screamed and kicked him in between his legs. John dropped to the floor, roaring in pain. I tried to take the axe from him but even with his condition, he was able to hold on to it.

He got up and threw the axe at the window. The glasses shattered as the piece of metal flew outside the house. “Suprise, surprise,” he said. “I have a gun,” he continued while taking out his gun from his pockets. In a flash, I found myself lying on the floor, not being able to move my leg. “You are so stupid,” John said. “I placed you inside a psychiatric ward and you managed to escape. A whole terrorist group bombed the hospital and you survived,” he said. “And I will survive tonight,” I said and a second shot was fired. “No you won’t,” John said. “Cause now you are dead,”

To be continued…


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