Ok, that is definitely the end.
I cannot tell, I just can write it down here.
My body is a shell.
My death is near; I can feel its hands on my shoulder.
I am tired of this.
I will write, what happened, why I am so depressed.
Maybe it will feel better, when I do.
It started two, three days ago.
I had the nightshift at the office.
No big deal, I made it voluntary, because no one else wanted to do it.
I liked the nights at the office.
And it was a similar to all the nights before.
I was the last one in the office.
When it was 12 o´clock, I decided to get a new coffee.
But the coffee machine was in the company room.
Slowly, I went out of the room to the beginning of the corridor. The light switch stocked, so I had to go through the dark corridor to the company room.
Luckily, this light switch worked, so I didn’t have to make coffee in the dark.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrr, the coffee machine made very strange noises.
I always loved the smell of hot coffee, but this coffee smelled strange has hell.
After I walked through the dark corridor again, I arrived my desk.
I burnt my tongue by sipping on the hot coffee.
My computer was still on, but it opened a new website I did not saw before.
The URL-Code was:
The main thing on this website was a picture of a dead guy with a knife in his chest.
Everywhere were blood, his right hand still clasped the knife. Under the picture was a link. I clicked it and suddenly, my computer downloaded very many data.
I realized that this was a virus page and turned off the computer.
I breathed deeply, ten times, than I turned it back on.
When the home-menu showed up, my desktop-background was a gun.
I opened the picture-file and saw a large collection of dead corpses, suicides, I guess.
I deleted all files and turned off the computer.
I was kind of scared, so I wrote a note to my chef and grabbed the keys to the main door.
When I left the building, I breathed in the clear air.
It is an old ritual, my whole family do.
When the air is clear, it will be a good day.
But I was sometimes wrong with that.
So it was today.
I walked home, I never had a car, and I will never need one.
He stood on the street.
A man, covered in a dark jacket.
When I came closer, I saw the headlights off a truck.
“Dude, watch out!” I screamed, but too late.
The truck drove directly through him.
It drove through him? Yes, he disappeared right in front of me.
The night after the incident I couldn’t sleep.
The bed was hard, also the pillow.
After three hours off pain trying to fall asleep, I gave up and turned on the bed-light.
My heart stopped beating for a second.
Something, no, someone, hung down from my ceiling.
I suppressed a scream, jumped out my bed and ran in the hallway.
Slowly, I peeked through the keyhole.
There wasn’t a dead corpse anymore.
I opened the door, really, the corpse was gone, but there still was the rope.
I was really terrified.
I wouldn’t be able to sleep here anymore.
I took my pillow and my cover and went to the living room to sleep there.
The next day was terrible.
The couch was even harder than the bed and the TV just showed crap.
It was a Saturday, so I didn’t have to go to work.
After making tea, I ate cornflakes.
Right, I am 26 years old and eat cornflakes, what is wrong about that?
When I finished my bowl of cornflakes, I brought it to the dishwasher.
But when I opened it, there weren’t just dirty dishes.
There also was a bloody butcher knife.
I felt sick, so I just throw my bowl in the sink and closed the dishwasher.
Suddenly, the phone rang.
I was scared as hell.
Slowly, I grabbed the handset of the phone.
“Hello?” I asked tremulously.
“Go to the train station”, a voice whispered.
“Who is there?”, I asked.
“Stop joking! WHO IS THERE?”
The person hung up.
“I just don’t believe you”, I said.
On the fridge was a note:
Saturday 9:24 o´clock – Go to the train station.
It was written in my handwriting!
The train station wasn’t that crowded filled, maybe because it was Saturday.
Except me, there was just a man in a black coat, a black hat and a scarf, so I couldn’t see his face.
I didn’t knew, what to do here, so I just waited on the platform.
From far away, I heard a train coming.
Also the man in black did.
He jumped down on the rails.
“What are you doing???”
With a scratching voice, he just said:” Go home.”
I turned around, so I didn’t have to look.
The train drove directly through him, like the truck yesterday.
There was nobody, and like yesterday, I am the only one who saw it.
In my house there was something…
I felt it, when I entered and closed the door.
There was something strange, something new.
It was in the cellar.
I knew it, I didn’t know how.
The cellar was dark and there was no electric light.
So I had to go in the kitchen and grabbed the flashlight.
The flashlight pierced the darkness around me.
Carefully, I went downstairs,
Down in the cellar, I smelled something.
Maybe it was… blood?
Slowly, I searched room.
In the left corner was a table.
On the table lay the man in black.
His eyes were closed, his mouth was opened.
In his right hand was a pill box.
It was a sleeping pill box.
Quickly, I turned out the flashlight and ran upstairs.
I ran to the light, to the electricity.
Maybe a healthy bath will help me, I thought.
Well, I thought wrong.
After I took in water, I took off my clothes and proposed a towel around my waist.
The whole bath was nebulized from the hot water in the bathtub.
Just for a second, I went out the bathroom to bring away my clothes.
But when I came back, there was someone sitting in my bathtub!
“Mister, what the hell are you doing in my home?”
The man didn’t give me an answer.
It took me a second to realize, that there wasn’t just the man in the black coat, there was also an affiliated hairdryer in the tub.
I turned out the light and closed the door.
This couldn’t go on like this.
I was terrified.
I slept on the couch this night.
But I woke up, after someone poked me.
I am living alone, was the first thing I thought.
I opened my eyes.
It was the mysterious man with the black coat.
He pointed at me with a gun.
I suppressed a scream.
The man realized that I was awaken and went in the middle of the room.
He put the gun next to his head, loaded and fired.
The man was gone.
But the gun fell on the ground.
I felt like a piece of shit in an old toilet.
I grabbed a pen and some sheets of paper and wrote down anything that happened to me.
There we are, yet, I am done with my duty.
Now, there is no need for me anymore.
With a smile, I look on the gun on the ground.
I take it and look closer on it.
Enough writing, I am done.
Author: Jannis Busch