Dear DiaryA Story by InsanityWriterWritten words...She was jogging home from her aerobics dance class. She was tired, but blissfully so. It had been a decent day. Down Winzelberg considered herself normal. Or at least as normal as normal can be. She wasn't unusually beautiful, and she wasn't unusually ugly. She was simply an average young woman at the age of 23 who liked to wear makeup she thought made her prettier. She had only recently graduated college, and was living with her best friend as roommates. She worked a desk job for a company and had aerobic dance classes every other Saturday to help her stay in shape and have some semblance of a social life. It was one of those days that had started out bright and sunny, but eventually clouds had crept up to engulf the sun. As the sky darkened slowly, Down jogged a little faster. Thankfully the sidewalk wasn't crowded, because it meant she didn't crash into anyone as she tripped. "Dang it!" She said, her day had been going so well. She looked for what she'd tripped over, and her eyes came to rest on a small blue book. She was about to just jog away and murmur to herself about people being stupid and littering, but instead she picked it up, put it in her bag, and brought it home with her. She didn't know why... It was intriguing for some peculiar reason. She was curious of it, in a way she couldn't tell why. "I'll take it home with me, then figure out whose it is and return it to them." She said to herself. "And read it too..." The truthful part of her mind admitted. It was a peculiar diary, more of a journal actually. There were detailed notes about occurrences that occurred each day. Some normal, some wonderful, some helpful, some... Horrible. She flipped through the pages, curious. And then she stopped and stared. 4/11/13; 4:46 pm - Car crash on Regals Street, 14 people injured and hospitalized, 4 dead "This is today's date..." She thought to herself. She looked up and down out her window onto the street below. Regals Street. She looked at her watch. 5 seconds until 4:46... The second she didn't expect it-- it happened. Screams echoed in the street below. Down looked out in horror, feeling as if she held the murder weapon in her hands. Shaking, she turned the page. Something sinister drew her to the wish to read what came next. 4/11/13; 4:46 pm- Down Winzelberg reads this entry. Down dropped the book like a burning bolt had pierced her hands. Something... Bad radiated from it. Something awfully terrible. She felt a horror begin to clutch her being. A frantic. Stabbing. Guilty, horror. What was going on?? A page suddenly fluttered over on its own accord. Down screamed. Another. Another. Another. Rapidly they turned, like a spastic wind was pushing them until it reached its destination. A blank page. Down had pressed herself against the wall. No. No. No. This is weird. What is happening?? Why? What? How?? Listless, nonsensical and fragmenting thoughts. That was when ink began to seep into letters. Neat, perfect cursive like on all the other pages... 4/11/13; 4:47 pm- Down Winzelberg, The said woman screamed again, and not waiting to see what had been written, ran into her bedroom which was nearest. Locking the door. Terrified. Not knowing. Then a strange growling came from behind her. She didn't want to look behind her... Curiosity had given her enough that day... But it was too much. She turned-- and screamed for the last time. Max got home. Max was short for Maxine... But Max was fine thank-you-very-much. She'd not had the best day at work, but whatever. It was over. She'd decided to suggest a movie night to her roommate, Down Winzelberg (odd name, but nice girl), since neither of them had to work the next day. They could stay up late, get up late. Just like they did before they started living on their own and acting all "responsible". Max flung her bag onto the floor and grinned, trying to decide a movie. But then she realized the awful silence... And the smell. A bloody smell. Oh no... There was that feeling. The feeling like, this isn't happening. Why would it? We're not the 'somebody else' this happens too... So Max walked cautiously and reluctantly further into the apartment, stopping at an out-of-place thing. A blue book. Had Down bought it that day? Why was it on the floor? It looked... Handwritten? A journal? Max bent to pick it up to read it out of sheer temptation, before promptly dropping it and running to Down's room. 4/11/13; 4:47 pm- Down Winzelberg, beware of the monsters under your bed. © 2013 InsanityWriterAuthor's Note
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10 Reviews Added on April 15, 2013 Last Updated on April 15, 2013 AuthorInsanityWriterI'm amongst my people. Praise!About****Please review some of my works if you're going to send me a friend request, I will return the favor. Thanks!! :) I write mostly poetry, but I do have a book of short stories (it's literally cal.. more..Writing
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