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 An Old Story my Friend Wrote

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Xaine

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PostSubject: An Old Story my Friend Wrote   Tue Jul 08, 2008 8:47 am

My friend wrote this story awhile ago and so I thought it would be cool if others could read it, even though it's not finished, so I will post it. Please don't steal this story line for any purpose since it is the idea of my friend and I, so you steal it......I will kill you. Anyways, enjoy reading it......muhahahaha.

P.S. Did I forget to mention it's a horror story? >.>


All characters in this book are fictional. If anyone finds any resemblance between themselves and these characters, they are to put this book down right now and pick up another. Also, if one should find any connections between themselves and the number 13, they should stop reading immediately for their own sake.



I – Sunday, August 1st

From this point on, you shall only know me as the XIIIth Chronicler. No, that isn’t my true name; I made it up just for this occasion. Many things have been changed, as you’ll soon realize, for certain reasons. The only thing you’re allowed to know is that this was all the doing of The Darkness.
No one knows how The Darkness came to be, or why it even exists for that matter. Some say it came to life the day The Light did. The only thing anyone knows is that for millions of years, The Light and The Darkness have fought for control of the world, and ultimately the entire Universe. Their war has waged on for so long with no winner that they have been confined to this tiny planet we call home: Earth. Each one controls a time of day that makes it most powerful: The Light controls the day, and The Darkness controls the night. Their fight can be clearly seen during the times of twilight: sunrise and sunset. The Light is the easiest to identify, it having many physical shapes, all of them stars and suns. The Darkness, however… is a bit different.
No mortal can look at The Darkness and live to tell the tail. They can only see it out of the corner of their eyes, a floating mist of darkness, fire, and ash. It can travel through the world, even in daylight, although it would be weak if it did. That’s why it confines itself to the night. If one were to somehow manage to directly look at it and even see it for that matter, their mind would turn to mush in the same process that it would if that person were to watch too much television, but the process would be thousands of times faster, almost to the point where they would go brain dead instantly.
The Light feeds off of joy and peace, whereas The Darkness feeds off of fear and death. In order to have a physical form, The Darkness will go to a small village and consume someone, making them its host. Every night from then on, The Darkness would control the host, going around the village and finding victims. It will then use the host as a conductor to use its abilities, manipulating the fears of its victims and then sucking the life energy out of their bodies. Its signature, the number thirteen etched in roman numerals on the corpses’ necks, begins to appear on the host’s left shoulder the first night The Darkness takes control. This is the only way to identify the host, as the number shows on them because The Darkness slowly kills them every time it takes control. Thirteen nights will pass, and when the mark of the number thirteen shows most on the host’s shoulder, The Darkness will have killed the host and the entire village, and will leave for a new village and a new host. This process is repeated over and over through time, though no one ever notices it.
That’s because no one ever notices The Darkness.
Though 1,300 years passed, and The Darkness hadn’t consumed a single host since then, having been nearly destroyed when The Light finally came to a small town’s rescue on the thirteenth night of The Darkness being there. But I’m afraid that The Darkness had found two more hosts in this small town, and it nearly brought
everyone to their knees. There are few of us that survived, almost to the point where there are so few that no one believes anything we tell them. I’ve collected together the stories of the few survivors and put them together neatly with my own sights so that you can clearly see what we had to deal with. Some names, dates, locations, and events have been changed to protect the people that survived, and to honor those that fell to the power of The Darkness.
Allow me, the XIIIth Chronicler, to reveal the truth of the murders that took place in this small California town.

I was woken up suddenly, what it was that had woken me up, I don’t know. My face had been covered in sweat, my breathing hard and rapid. The only source of light was the pale moonlight, which leaked in from the closed shutters over the only window in the room. I looked around, half-expecting to see the one thing I had feared my entire life, but the only thing I could see was the naked walls, myself in the mirror on my bedroom door, the window, and… was my shirt glowing?
I unbuttoned my shirt, just enough to see the forbidden mark glowing over my heart; the number thirteen, etched in roman numerals. It glowed, its color a mixture of gold and black, moving like liquid as if it wasn’t even on my shoulder. I held my breath, as it was an easy sign that the very thing that I had feared was in the town, and close by for that matter. And if The Darkness was in the town, than that meant it had found a new host, and this was the first night in the thirteen-night cycle of death, fear, and confusion.
I heard a noise come from outside my bedroom window, and I reluctantly swung my legs out of the bed, getting up and walking over to open up the shutters. I stuck my head out the window, looking around for what might have caused it. The moon was full on that night, which added more to my fear. As I looked below to the ground, my eyes widened as I realized that I had been right all along.
There were two corpses on the ground, a male and a female. The male’s hand was outstretched, as if to protect himself, while his other arm was wrapped around the female, as if protecting her as well. I knew the couple; they had been my best customers at my book store. They had loved reading just as much as I loved writing, and I couldn’t blame them. Some of the books they had purchased were my own creations, written and carefully put together with my own hands. The man’s glasses were shattered, but I wasn’t looking at him or his wife anymore. What I was staring at were the two shadows standing at one end of the small alleyway between the building my apartment was in, along with the bookstore I owned, and the hotel next to it.
Their faces couldn’t be seen, the moonlight was shining on their backs instead of their fronts. Alas, I could make out two crimson red eyes glowing from their faces. One was slightly taller than the other, a female. The shorter one, a male, had his arms crossed over his chest. What I could make out about both of them was that they both had pitch black hair, pale skin, and those frightening eyes that made them seem like incarnations of the devil himself.
The female looked up at me, and I held my breath, afraid that I was about to be attacked. The way she stared at me made me afraid that a hole was going to appear on my face. The male looked at his partner, looked up at me, and then smirked. I could clearly see a white fang gleam in what little light there was.
And then they both turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. In my fright, and brought my head back into the room and closed the window, locking it. I even closed the shutters again, and ran to turn my bedroom light. I tried to catch my breath again, but the fear kept coming back. I ran to my bed, getting down on all fours, and reached under the bed, feeling around. I cussed under my breath until I pulled out a small book, the cover made of leather with yellow paper between the covers. The book was ancient, so I had to be careful as I opened up the pages and searched.
The book had belonged to one of my ancestors, the very man responsible for the forbidden mark on my shoulder. He had been the last man to be possessed by The Darkness and lived to write about it, The Light having come to save him and what was left of his village. As I reached the page, I read quickly and quietly his description of all of those who were possessed by The Darkness. And what I read was good enough to give me a heart attack: crimson red eyes, claws, pale skin. I dropped the book to the ground, wide eyed and afraid more than ever.
I climbed back into my bed, turning the light off and burrowing under the covers. I tried hard to fall asleep and forget my fears, because I knew one of the things that The Darkness fed off of was fear. But fear kept me up all night, and it was eight in the morning before I got out of bed, dark lines under my eyes.
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Xaine

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PostSubject: Re: An Old Story my Friend Wrote   Tue Jul 08, 2008 8:48 am

II – Monday, August 2nd

Normally, today would have been just like any other day for Allister and Aidyn Sevoria. They were the twin children of David and Crystal Sevoria, and were members of the richest family in the small town. It’s not like they lived in a giant mansion or anything, oh no. They didn’t use their money for that. Actually, they rarely ever used their money. They lived in a small house in a small town, and were one of the most liked families around. They were kind and sweet, or at least, David and Crystal were. The twins, however, were a different story.
Aidyn was the eldest, being older than her brother Allister. She lived mostly in the basement of the house, preferring the nice cool air and the little light around her. Her room was fairly normal for a seventeen-year-old, especially since it had been the twins’ birthday yesterday. Her walls were black, the basement having no need to be painted for that. She had a bed along one wall with three pillows and two blankets, all crimson red. Her desk was right next to the bed, a small lamp on it and a crimson red chair in front of it. She had a TV against one wall that had a Playstation 2 hooked up to it with piles of movies, CDs, and games all around on the floor. Among her walls were what seemed like hundreds of posters for bands, mostly Avenged Sevenfold. Both her and her brother shared a liking for them.
Allister slept in a normal-sized bedroom on the second floor. When he and his sister had turned thirteen, his father had made him a small wooden sign to put on his bedroom door that was still there to this day. It read “My room, my mess, my business.” Inside, one could easily mistake his room for Aidyn’s room. The only exceptions were two things: one, the only two posters in the room were on his bedroom wall, one being for Avenged Sevenfold, and the other for a band called the Soldiers of Fate. His walls were covered with, instead of posters, drawings, all of them his creations. He drew dragons, swords, people, and many other things. One drawing that stood out in particular was a drawing of a floating mist made of total darkness. “I saw in a dream,” he said when his parents saw it. He had the dream on the night of his and Aidyn’s birthday, and had put his regular signature on the bottom right-hand corner. It was his name in cursive, but with the number thirteen on the end, most likely because it had been the thirteenth birthday for him and his sister.
In appearance, the twins looked almost exactly like each other. Allister had short pitch-black hair with bangs that reached the tip of his nose and streaks of silver hair on the sides of his head, while Aidyn had waist-length pitch-black hair with streaks of silver as well. Ok, so I lied. They weren’t real streaks of silver hair. Just streaks of blonde hair so light that it looked like silver hair. They both wore black, red, and grey clothes, both had natural fanged teeth, both had one green eye and one blue eye, and they both were quite athletic. The main difference was that one was male and one was female. That, and unlike his sister, Allister was a tad trigger happy at times.
Sadly, though, the twins knew something about their father that even Crystal didn’t know. If one were to enter the small library of the house, and pay attention closely, they would notice that one of the bookshelves against the wall could be moved away to reveal a small room, once intended to be a Panic Room. Panic Rooms, if you do not know about them already, are safe rooms that are hidden well in a person’s house. If the chance of an intruder came along, the family could quickly lock themselves in the Panic Room and call the police. However, over time, Crystal had forgotten about this room, while David had turned it into a room filled with thousands of notes, all on numbers that appeared everywhere, such as thirteen, twenty-three, six-six-six, seven, and so on and so forth. There had been more than one occasion that the family would be sitting at their dinner table eating when Aidyn and Allister notice that their father had written more notes on his arm for later. Of course, they never said anything to their mother; they always thought Crystal knew about David’s slight obsession.
Sorry, losing my train of thought. Anyway, the reason Aidyn and Allister weren’t considered sweet and kind was shown today more than ever. Allow me to explain.

Detective Johnson nearly barfed when he saw the corpses. He had been called in to investigate a homicide case as usual, it was his job. He had seen more real corpses than any couch potato would ever see in their entire lives. But he had never seen corpses like these: rotting, pale, inhuman, and over-all revolting. It was nearly impossible to identify the bodies by now, and they didn’t look more than five hours old.
It looked strange to see a person like him being a homicide detective. He had short-cut red hair that slightly spiked on the top with normal-length bangs, hazel eyes, and a skinny body. He wore a black shirt and white pants with a brown over-coat. In general, he looked like your average person. Instead, he was one of the best homicide detectives the small town had.
A woman walked up behind the homicide detective. “We can’t even tell if a weapon was used or if they just died. We’re going to send them over to the morgue for an autopsy, but I don’t think at this rate we’ll come up with anything,” she said. She looked from the detective to the bodies, and then shook her head. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Johnson walked to the side of the alleyway to take a pair of rubber gloves out of a box, putting them on. He looked at the woman, and then walked over to the bodies, crouching down to inspect them. “Never,” he said plainly, looking closely. He searched the bodies for any wallets or any type of identification, finally pulling a wallet out of a pocket from what seemed like the male corpse. He opened it up, and then held it up in the air. “We got an I.D. Laura and Paul Decker.” He set the wallet on the ground and inspected the corpses more.
The woman was about to speak when she heard several truck doors slam shut. She turned to see men and woman with cameras coming, and she quickly looked back at the detective. “Blake, we got the press on our hands.”
Without looking back at her, he cursed under his breath. “Get them out of here, now!” he barked at a police officer, as he let out a sigh and then noticed something. He moved so he could move the collar from Paul’s neck, and then did the same with Laura’s. He looked back at the woman. “Toni, come here for a minute.”
Toni, bending over so she could pass through the crime scene tape, walked over and crouched down next to Blake. “What?” she asked.
Blake looked at her, and then pointed to the necks of the corpses. “What do you notice?”
She looked from the detective, to the necks, and then frowned. “Is that…”
Blake simply nodded. On the necks of the two corpses was the number thirteen, scratched into their necks in roman numerals. The marks were bleeding still, the blood black to add to the already gruesome corpses.
Toni then saw something, and pointed to the ground next to Paul’s body. Blake looked, and saw a blonde strip of hair, so light that it looked more like silver hair than anything else. He picked it up with a gloved hand, and then pulled a plastic bag out of his coat pocket, putting the hair in and sealing it shut. He handed it to Toni. “Run some DNA tests on it; see what you come up with.”
Toni simply nodded and got up to walk away. Blake watched her disappear around the corner, and then looked at the building to his left: my building. He stood up and walked to the side-walk, looking at an officer. “Keep this place secure, don’t let the press in. I’ll be back in a minute.” He then looked at the sign on the front of the building, and then entered my bookshop.
I was sitting behind my counter, reading a particularly good book called The Picture of Dorian Grey. It was about a man who wanted to stay young forever, and eventually learned how to, but in the same process, the portrait he had of himself changed and showed his true self. It was one of my favorite books. I looked up to notice the detective, and put the book down. “May I help you?” I asked.
He took off his rubber gloves and put them in his pockets, before pulling out a badge. “I’m Detective Blake Johnson. I suppose you’re the one that reported the murder?”
I nodded. “Indeed I am,” I said. “I’m not in any trouble, am I Detective?”
The man shook his head. “No, you aren’t. I just have a few questions for you. You said you saw the person who performed the crime. Can you please describe him?”
I shook my head. “Not only was it too dark for me to see their faces, but you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the truth.”
“‘Their’ faces; so there was more than one?”
“Two to be exact,” I said calmly. “But as I said, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told the truth.”
The detective walked to the side, taking the books off of a chair that was sitting around and putting them on the counter so he could pull the chair up to the counter and sit down. “I’ve got a long day ahead of me and a homicide to investigate, so start talking.”

Detective Johnson left a little bit afterwards, shaking his head. “Crazy man,” he muttered, but his cell phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket and brought it to his ear. “Homicide, Johnson speaking.”
“I’ve got the DNA results on the strip of hair.” It was Toni.
“What have you got? I have plenty of police back at the station that are ready to be sent somewhere instantly.”
A sigh could be heard on the other end of the line. “Well, you’re not going believe this, and we’ve even checked our conclusion three times to see if we were wrong, but the DNA confirms as belonging to the Sevorias.”
Blake raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that the most respected family in the entire town killed two people in one night?”
“No, I’m not saying the family killed two people in one night. I’m saying that Allister and Aidyn did this.”
That explains it then, Blake thought to himself. “The little punks; but come on, even those little devils aren’t capable of this, and besides, there aren’t any fingerprints on the crime scene that belong to them.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not sending a squad to the Sevorias’ home. This is insane, Toni!”
“Well there’s no evidence saying they didn’t do this, Blake!” she yelled on the other end.
Blake went silent for a minute, and then sighed. “Fine, I’ll send someone over there to question the two of them and their parents. But I’m telling you, even those twerps aren’t capable of killing two people and turning their bodies the way they are now.
Toni simply hung up, and the detective let out another sigh, hanging up and then calling the police station. “Chief, send someone over to the Sevorias’ house. Toni found a strip of hair at the crime scene down here on West Street and she thinks it belongs to one of the twins.”
A cough came from the other end. “Ok, I’ll send someone.” With that, the two of them hung up and Blake looked at an officer. “Get someone from the morgue down here to take these bodies back with them. Have them perform an autopsy on them and find out how they died.” He then started down the sidewalk, needing to get something to eat before he went to the Sevorias’ home with the other officer to ask the family some questions.

“Do you honestly believe that my children would kill someone?” David yelled. He was furious towards the police officer who had told him about everything. “Get out of my house!”
The police officer was dumbfounded, and nodded a bit before he showed himself out of the home. Not soon after he left did Detective Blake Johnson show up, but he was even more surprised when David saw him and yelled at him. Inside, Crystal and the twins could clearly here David swearing up a storm outside.
“Mr. Sevoria, please calm down,” Blake said calmly. “You believe me; I know your children wouldn’t do something like this. But we have two dead bodies back in town and the only evidence that was found at the crime scene was a strip of blonde hair that we had analyzed quickly, and it belongs to one of your children.”
“Well aren’t there any fingerprints or something? You’re a homicide detective, you’re supposed to look absolutely everywhere for evidence!” It looked like David was about to explode.
“We did, and all we found was that strip of hair. I’ll gladly look at the crime scene later, but for now I’d like to see your children.”
David gave the man a cold glare, something he rarely did. “You can come back tomorrow when you’ve found more evidence that shows my children did not kill someone.”
The detective merely nodded. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Sevoria. I know you have a lot of work to do around here.” And with that, he left. A few minutes later, the man reached the crime scene and stepped over the crime scene tape, looking around closely for anything he might have missed. Everything looks the same, he thought, but he quickly shook his head. “No, there’s something missing,” he muttered. And that’s when he opened his eyes and saw something.
He walked over to a giant garbage can on wheels. It was against one of the walls, and when he looked under it, what he saw made him push the garbage can away to reveal claw marks that went deep into the cement ground. His eyes widened a bit, and he grabbed his cell-phone out of his pocket, making a phone-call. “Toni? Get down here quick, I found something you might want to see.”
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Xaine

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PostSubject: Re: An Old Story my Friend Wrote   Tue Jul 08, 2008 8:48 am

III – Tuesday, August 3rd

When there is a fire in a building like the apartment on North Street, one usually would see it burning to the ground and would call the town’s fire department. But somehow, that apartment managed to burn without anyone noticing, even the people in it. And now the building, along with everyone that was in it at the time, lies in ashes. Yet another part of Detective Blake Johnson’s investigation.
Toni was with him again. “No one saw the building burn. We have no clue how it started or why no one noticed it.” She motioned for him to follow her, and the two of them walked over to three skeletons that lied in the ashes. “Look at their necks.”
Blake crouched down to the ground, looking closely at the neck bones of the skeletons. Each one had the number thirteen etched into their necks in roman numerals, just like the two corpses from the day before. “How many people were in the building at the time?”
“We found ten skeletons so far, but we’re guessing that there were a lot more than that in total,” she said.
Blake sighed, and stood up, looking at Toni. “Did you get the results from the autopsy?”
She nodded. “The organs in the bodies were rotting just like the outsides, there was massive internal bleeding, and we even found a few bugs crawling around inside them.” She hesitated for a moment. “Blake… their hearts were completely destroyed. It looks like they exploded from the inside out.”
“Thanks, you’re going to make me regret eating breakfast a few minutes ago,” he muttered, to which Toni laughed a bit. “So what do you think of those claw marks we found at the alleyway yesterday?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know any animal that could do that. And we definitely know no animal can do what it did to Paul and Laura.”
“So you’re admitting that the Sevoria kids had nothing to do with it then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Ok, I don’t believe that they did it anymore,” she muttered. “But we still have that strip of hair as evidence. This investigation’s getting weirder and weirder by the minute.”
“I’ll say.” He looked at the watch on his wrist and then looked at Toni. “I’ve got to go; I’ve got a date with twins. Keep things under control around here until I get back. I’ll let you know how the interview went.”
Toni simply nodded, and he walked away from the crime scene, thoughts of the events from the day before and today flying through his head.

“You’re a good artist,” Blake said. He was in Allister’s room, looking at the boy’s drawings. “I have a cousin who’s pretty good, but not even this good. You should be proud of yourself.”
Allister, who was sitting on his bed, just shrugged. “I just draw what comes to my mind.”
The detective nodded, and tilted his head to the side like a confused dog when he saw one drawing in particular. “What’s this?” He pointed to it: the drawing of the black mist.
“Oh, that? I drew that when I was thirteen; I saw it in a dream, but even I don’t know what it is.” He stood up and walked over to look at the picture.
“Interesting; I think the guy who owns the bookshop on West Street would be interested in it.” He shook his head and chuckled. “He told me the craziest story yesterday when I went to ask him a few questions. I think he’d like this photo.”
“No, I don’t think he would.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because the dream I saw that thing in was a nightmare.” Allister walked out of the room and disappeared down the hallway. Blake simply watched him leave and then looked at the photo again before leaving to go talk with Aidyn.

The door to the basement was awfully creaky, though I suppose that, from what I’ve heard when I interviewed the girl, Aidyn preferred this as a form of security. As Blake walked down the steps that led to the basement, he saw Aidyn playing a game while sitting in her red chair. He walked over and watched, before moving to the TV to pick up an open game case to find out what she was playing.
“Dot Hack,” he read.
“G.U. Volume One,” she finished for him, before she paused her game. “How may I help you, considering you intruded into my room without even bothering to knock on my door?”
He put the case down. “I have a few questions to ask you, nothing more Ms.”
Aidyn stood up, walking over to her desk. “Spare me the formalities. I get that enough around here.”
He raised an eyebrow, but then shook it off. “Where were you and your brother two nights ago?”
She looked over at him. “We were here all night, celebrating our birthday like we always do.”
“And at five in the morning?”
“Here, sleeping. Or at least I was; Allister’s a bit of a night-time person, just like dad. He spends most of his time in the library with dad, but besides that, he never leaves the house at night.” Aidyn sat on her bed. “If you’re implying that either me or Allister did something related to the murders, then forget it. My brother and I spend most of our time here as usual.”
“I never said that, now did I Aidyn?” He obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere with the twins today. “Well, considering you’re busy with your game and Allister has disappeared, I’ll be going now.” He nodded a bit to say goodbye, and then walked up the stairs and out of the basement. The moment he got outside, he called Toni.
“Anything?” she asked.
“No, they’re as stubborn as hell.”
“Did you even try?”
“I resent that,” he said. “Look, focus on finding the rest of the bodies from the apartment. I’ll worry about the twins. Besides, I want to go see those claw marks again. After I do, let’s meet at the café on Turnpike Avenue. I’ll get you a latte.”
There was a slight pause on the other end, to which Blake could tell Toni was considering it. “Ok, I’ll meet you there in a half-hour.”
“Ok, see you then.” He hung up and put his phone away.

Nothing could have prepared Blake for what he found. The moment he got there, the first thing he noticed was that there were words scratched into the ground now next to the claw marks that read, “LEAVE TOWN OR DIE.” It obviously was meant for him, because someone had taped a photo of himself onto the ground next to the words.
The moment he saw it, Blake cursed. He got his phone out and made a call to the police station. “Chief, get some men down here. We’ve got a big problem.”

IV – Wednesday, August 4th (Half of Four)

Toni laughed at Blake’s joke as they walked up the sidewalk, heading for the station to start the day off. I can’t remember exactly what he said the joke was about, only that it made Toni laugh. This was a peaceful morning apposed to the previous two mornings, and that was usually a good sign. Toni took a sip of her coffee, while Blake took a bite out of his P&P sandwich, which was nearly finished.
They turned around a corner and finally walked up the steps that lead to the town’s police station. Nothing could have prepared them for what awaited them on the other side of the two doors. Blake had nearly decided to stay late at the station to get some more work done on the investigation, but something had made him choose otherwise. Later, Blake would most likely want only two words on his tombstone: “What if…”
As they opened the door, Toni dropped her coffee, and Blake dropped his sandwich. The entire place was a mess. “Mess,” in this case, means that the entire police station was covered in blood. Blood that belonged to, not only what seemed like the rest of the bodies from the apartment that burned down on North Street, but also all of the detectives and policemen and woman that were there the night before. It was a horrific scene, and it was even worse when Toni and Blake realized that all of the bodies lying on the ground had the number thirteen in their necks.
Toni instantly turned away, while Blake puked. As soon as he was done, he ran, heading for the break room. As he got there, he opened up all of the cans of coffee that were in the room and grabbed a box of matches out of his pocket, burning matches and throwing them into the coffee cans. Burning coffee was a trick detectives used to lift the smell of death from an area. He came back to where Toni was, seeing that she had her eyes shut tightly.
There came from a moan from a room on the second floor, and Blake ran to find it. He was half-relieved and half-afraid at the sight he saw when he found the source of the noise. The chief of the police station, James, was lying on the ground. His legs were bleeding badly, one of his legs missing now, and one of his arms was bleeding badly as well. The homicide detective cursed under his breath. “Toni, call an ambulance!” He ran over and crouched down next to the man. “Don’t worry chief, you’re going to be ok,” he said reassuringly. “Help’s coming.”
The man on the ground could barely speak. His face was pale, and Blake couldn’t tell if it was from the loss of blood or because he was scared beyond sanity. He stuttered as he tried to speak, “Y-Y-You have t-to le-le-leave, Johnson…” He didn’t say anything else; he just shivered and groaned in pain.
Blake cursed. “Toni, where’s that ambulance?!”
“They’re on their way!” he heard her reply. She ran up the stairs and stopped the moment she saw Blake and James. “Oh my god,” was all she could say, so she turned to the side to not look, but what she saw only made her say it again.
Blake got up for a moment, and looked to see what she was looking at. He was shocked; there, written in blood on the wall in big letters, were the words “LEAVE TOWN JOHNSON”. He closed his eyes, just not to look at it.

It was thirty minutes before the ambulance got to the station. For Blake, Toni, and the chief, it seemed like forever. By the time they did get there, Blake was sitting outside so he didn’t have to look at the horror that the inside of the building brought. He had no idea why any of this was happening. He was holding his gun in his hands, turning it over and over. The magazine was next to him, with the bullets neatly taken out and lined up in a row. A year ago, his weapon had been his best friend. They had been investigating a few heists, and when it came down to it, the chief and him had personally taken down the town’s last gang. Since then, everything had been perfect. Or, at least, perfect for everyone besides Blake, who longed for action again. It seemed like he got more than he wanted.
Toni finally came outside to see how he was doing. She saw the gun in his hands and sighed, walking over and sitting next to him. “They said that Jams will have to stay in the hospital for a while, but they think he might never mentally recover.” She knew that wasn’t what Blake wanted to hear; he and the chief were like father and son. It had been James that taught Blake everything he knew about homicides, and the two of them had been really close. It was also because James was the only person that could tell them what had happened, and just by looking at the necks on the bodies, it would be a real help.
Blake simply nodded at what she said. He wasn’t paying too much attention to what was happening right now. He was thinking about the past more than anything. As a thought came to his head, he was half-hearted to even consider it; maybe I was right, and he didn’t want to submit to that. But he had no choice in the matter, since all of the other policemen, woman, detectives, and criminals in the jail cells were dead, and all the murders in the past few days had been going just like my story had.
He stood up suddenly, putting the gun down so he could collect his bullets, put them in his magazine, and then put that into the gun. He put it in its little case in his shoulder, and then looked at Toni. “Go inside and collect any weapons and ammo you’ve got while I go back down to West Street. I’ve got a visit to make.”

Zac Nightengale had been a good friend of the Sevoria twins since they had been five years old. He was three years older than them, and had been in college for the last one year and one month. The moment he heard about the murders in town, however, he left college and came back to town rather fast.
David was a bit surprised to see Zac suddenly appear. He had been tending to the tomato garden at the side of the house when he saw the boy, looking around and muttering what sounded like “Hasn’t changed one bit.” He stood up and walked over. “Good to see you Zac.”
Zac looked at David and held out his hand, which the man shook.
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An Old Story my Friend Wrote
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