Don't

             I walked down the damp sidewalk along side the seemingly uninhabited road. The dark umbrella I carried shielded me from the small raindrops that shot down at the ground. I hurried through the raging storm until I got to a small shop on the corner of the street. I closed my dark umbrella and hurried into the little shop.



             My allergies immediately started acting up due to the massive amount of dust that lied on the shelves holding dozens of books. I sneezed and shook my head as if shaking it off. I started looking through the books on the shelves to find one that I could read at home as the storm raged on.



             I slipped out a book titled, “DON’T.” It was a dark gray-blue color, and it looked like it was very old. I noticed that it didn’t give a description on the back or the name of the author. It only said, “DON’T.” I shrugged it off and walked over to the old woman in charge of the little shop.



             She looked as though she had no emotion. She only looked up at me, down to the book, and back towards the corner of the room, making me turn around to see what she was looking at. Oddly enough, there was nothing in the corner.



             “That’s a very frightening one,” she muttered in her raspy old voice, still looking at the empty corner.



             “Have you read it before?” I asked her curiously. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at me. Her lips were pursed together, and she looked rather stern.



             “It’s a good one,” she said, staring back into the corner of the room, but the look on her face had stayed.



             “Okay, um, how much?” I asked, referring to the price.



<p class="MsoNormal">             “No price. It’s yours,” she said quickly.

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<p class="MsoNormal">             “Ma’am, are you sure? I would feel really bad if I--”

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<p class="MsoNormal">             “Take it,” she said, looking up at me again. I could see a tint of fear in her eyes but I shook it off.

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<p class="MsoNormal">             “W-well, err, thanks,” I said, before exiting the shop. I could have sworn I heard the little old lady say, “sorry,” but I ignored it, and, as soon as I walked outside, my sinuses immediately cleared up, and I opened up my umbrella with the old book in hand. I walked all the way home and got dressed into comfy sweats as I wrapped myself up in a blanket on the couch.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">             I opened up the book and started to read.

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<p class="MsoNormal">             ''Don’t read. Please, please, don’t read. For your own sake do…not…read… ''

<p class="MsoNormal">''

''

<p class="MsoNormal">             That was all that was on the first page. I flipped to the second page to see there was more text. Oddly, the text seemed to be written by hand instead of typed on a computer. Well, it does add to the creepy factor, right?

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<p class="MsoNormal">             ''10/24/00 ''

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''

<p class="MsoNormal">''             It’s been following, watching, observing. It won’t leave me alone. No matter where I go, it’s always there. Staring right back at me. It’s dark. It’s dead. It’s evil… It never stops. I don’t know how much longer I have. It only started today, and I can already feel myself starting to go insane…little…by little…by little…by little…''

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">             That was the only thing that was on the second page. I was a bit confused, but also intrigued. The date showed 14 years ago exactly. It was quite the coincidence. I flipped through the rest of the pages quickly, seeing they all had about just one paragraph on each page. I continued to read the pages. They all seemed to be entries.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">             The first dozen seemed to be written by the same person, due to the type of writing style and knowledge the story held. After about 20 pages, each entered the day after the last one, it seemed as though a new author started writing about the same thing, but lacking the knowledge the last author had about the thing he or she was talking about, also having different handwriting and a different writing utensil.

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<p class="MsoNormal">             ''10/24/01 ''

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''

<p class="MsoNormal">''             It just won’t leave! It doesn’t matter what I do, I just won’t leave me alone! What’s happening? I want to scream and cry, but I just…can’t. The dark thing is everywhere! What do I have to do to get it to leave me alone? It’s driving me crazy!''

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">             That was the second author’s first entry, exactly a year after the first author’s first entry. That was odd, but I shook it off.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">             After reading about 100 pages, the author had changed five times, switching the author after exactly 20 pages; each entered a day after the other. Every author’s first entry was entered on October 24, a year after the last author started.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">They all seemed to describe the thing to look as though it were some sort of shadowy ghost. It was dark gray with almost no white and absolutely no color. It looked like it was the size and shape of a teenage boy. It was noticeable to have an outline of short hair and masculine facial features with a rather large torso, showing it was strong, with broad shoulders. Its waist was thin, and it looked to have been wearing long pants with a dark long sleeved shirt.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">The authors, they would always refer to him as Steven. They always said he was stubborn. They always said he was mean. They always said he was violent. They always said he would almost never talk. They all said he was a demon, a demon that disguised himself as a teenage ghost boy. It was always on the 20th day they said he turned into a monster with dark gray skin, gnarly teeth that stuck out of its mouth, ripped cloth hanging from it’s inhuman shaped body, and bright yellow, glowing eyes with slits for pupils like that of a cat.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Over their 20 days, they all went through the same thing. The first few days, Steven would just stare. He would just watch them. The next couple days after that, he would start to scream whenever they got too close. He would get angrier as the days continued. He would put things places, and, if they moved them, he would scream and start to throw things. After about the 10th day, they were all insane. They were so paranoid. They said they were only allowed to put in one entry per day. After the 15th day, Steven started to show up less and less, but he would always return on the on the 20th, November 12th.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">It was an interesting book, and I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. It wasn’t until I got to one of the entrees of the 13th author that I got a bit nervous.

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<p class="MsoNormal">             ''11/12/13 ''

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''

<p class="MsoNormal">''             Well, today’s my last day. I’ve caught on to this thing’s stupid little game. Steven is going to be Steven no longer. Steven is going to be known as a thing again. That’s what I’ll call Steven once he changes, Thing. Thing will come for me. Thing will end me. Thing will take away my existence. ''

<p class="MsoNormal">''

''

<p class="MsoNormal">''             I should have listened. I should have listened. I should have listened to the warning I was given. You should have listened to the warning we were ALL given, but we didn’t listen. We never listen. We are the victims. ''

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''

<p class="MsoNormal">             He’s here…he asked me if I had forgotten about him…far from it…

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<p class="MsoNormal">             That was the end of the book. There were still quite a few blank pages in the back, 20 to be exact. I sighed and shut the book. Immediately, I started sneezing and wheezing as the room filled with dusk, clouding my vision and blocking up my sinuses.

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<p class="MsoNormal">             “Now it’s your turn…” I heard a male voice quietly say from behind me. I spun around to see what looked to be Steven…

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">This story, it was true?

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<p class="MsoNormal">             ''10/24/14 ''

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''

<p class="MsoNormal">''              I should have known better than to ignore a warning… ''