Pocket messages

Somebody without a name lives with only the information inside his pocket. This is the intro of the story "the deleted files"

The sky was grim and dark as I made my way to the little house I found after a week of seeking a place to feel safe.    Well, safe is something else. I have never been really save in this world. While running thru the woods surrounding the little house I can’t keep my excitement from showing. The little house looks safe and cosy. Also small but that doesn’t matter. I am all alone now so the size is not important. I run to the wooden door which is luckily unlocked and go inside. A fire is burning.   S**t, somebody already claimed this one. My hands directly go to the self made knife, which always hangs by my waist. While looking around cautiously I walk around the house. It feels so warm and relaxing but I can’t relax till I found the person living here. I open one of the doors to a bedroom, empty. The next, also empty. Maybe the person living here is on a run. When I searched all the rooms and can’t find anyone I sit down in one of the chairs by the fire. Still with my knife in my hands. While looking at the fire I become drowsy. Don’t fall asleep now you idiot. What if the person comes back? No one would leave a place like this for long. So I turn away from the fire forcing me not to look at it. Instead I keep looking at the door. Its still open and has no lock. Maybe instead of waiting I should find a way to lock it. I heave myself from the comfortable chair and walk to the door. It has no way to close it at al. so how could the person who lived here have lived here, you need to keep the door closed at night or you will be surely dead by the next morning. I look around for something to lock it. Maybe I could move the cupboard against it. No, that wouldn’t keep the monster outside. I open the little drawers in the kitchen to look for something. In the bedrooms I look. Then I think of the Iron chain in my bag. Quickly I take it out. If I make a hole in the door I could take the chain into it. With my knife I slowly make a hole big enough for the chain to go trough. After that I make a hole in the wall next to the door and let the chain go thru there as well. I make a knot in it till the door won’t move anymore. After I am done I proudly look at the improvised lock. This will do for the night. Slowly I let myself fall in the chair again. I can’t even remember the last time I had something as comfortable as this chair. Again my eyes start to close. I haven’t slept well in days. Last night I was only able to close my eyes one hour till I heard the loud screams that woke me up. So a good night sleep would do me good.

 

‘my name is -rip in paper-. I am 23 and I am good with my hands. I worked at a furniture shop from the age of 12 because father always said it was best to start young with the things you are good at. I learned to make all kinds of wooden furniture. And because I liked it so much I made my own bed and cupboard for my room. At the age of 16 I had my first girlfriend, her name was Mirjam and she loved me because we were good friends once.

 

I always like simple jokes. My friends are guys who I met at schools and at sport clubs. And they share my stupid sense of humour. My father and mother sometimes think I am lazy but I know I am not. I do my work when it needs to be done.

 

My parents are hard working people. William and Teresa are there names. Father once said I have a brother but he never told more. They love me and want me to succeed in whatever I like doing most.

 

The files will be removed 3 days after I wrote this. If you find this in you pocked. Keep it! Write everything down you learn about yourself. And If you forget. Just read it back again. No one will take your history away if you keep this piece of paper. ‘

 

This information is the only information I have. I would have written down more about the things I learned these past weeks about myslef but I have no pencil. I don’t know how long it will take till I forget everything again and I have to start over. So maybe I need to find a way to write new things down.

My name is the only thing I don’t have from this piece of paper. The big rip looks like it was out of rage. Maybe I did it myself. Maybe I had a really ugly name so I just ripped it out. I tried giving myself a name but there is no use giving yourself a name when you are alone. Still I came up with a few names for if I ever find someone to team up with. William: because my father’s name was the same. Jack, because I seem to have liked working with wood. And somehow I associate the name Jack with wood. And Erin, because it is one of the only names I have found while I am surviving. I found it tattooed in the arm of a body laying half eaten a few tree from where I slept. He seemed like a nice person so maybe keeping his name will do his death some honour.

 

After a good sleep I look at the piece of paper for one straight hour. I read everything again and again without any reason. I feel safe in this little cabin. After reading it another time I get out of the chair and walk to my bag looking for some leftovers to eat. I put the piece of paper back in my pocket when I feel there is already is piece of paper in there. Like it is poisonous I get my hand out of it, the new piece of paper falls on the ground leaving two big word to read. ‘WELCOME FRIEND’. I pick the piece of paper up with fright. I want to rip it apart when two loud slams bang the door. I can’t move out of shock. Another slam against the door makes the chain get loser. Only after the fourth slam I am able to move. I pick up my knife and stand ready to fight whatever will break the door. BANG, BANG, BANG.. the door gets looser and looser. Then it stops…. A face appears from the crack he has made. His whole face it covered with scars and still open wounds. He is completely bald and has the smile of a serial killer. “welcome friend” he says with a smile. “I thought I’d wake you up form your deep sleep, you seemed to have taken my seat. I already left you a message for when you would wake up, and I have read your piece of paper as well”. 

Author's Note

English is not my first language so there will be some grammar mistakes.