Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27693925-20160222181702

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to feel complete dread? The feeling of never being happy ever again no matter what? Many call it clinical depression among many things, but I for one believe there’s more to it than just that. Much like I have witnessed and experienced that woeful day.It was a decent spring day at my block. It’s what you’d expect on days like these. The block I lived on was a suburban area that you’d normally find if you drive far enough out of the city but not too far out to the country. I was in my room attending to myself when I looked out my window. Some police cruisers were outside a house down my street.I went outside to see what was going on and found that the couple there were murdered late in the night. Who could’ve done such a horrible thing like this? Who could be cruel and twisted enough to go about their way to kill innocent people? I thought about going on my own to investigate, but I didn’t want to take the risk of running into the murderer. I later walked back home after I checked out the scene and had trouble sleeping that night.I finally fell asleep later that night after some struggles. My dreams were terrifying and lucid. I awoke five different times that night, screaming as I woke up. My parents who were sleeping as well woke up from my screaming. My mother walked in my room and asked if something happened. I told her that I was having some night terrors and she went out my room. As I laid there, embraced by the darkness surrounding me, I couldn’t help but think if something was going on.I woke up that morning still feeling exhausted due to the night before. I did my morning routine and went out for air. I was getting anxious about the situation. When I was walking down the pavement I found dried, bloodied footprints on the sidewalk. I took a closer look at them and found them to belong to size 8 men’s boots. What caught my attention was that they looked similar to the ones I have and wear often. I looked at the bottom of my own and found the prints matched! This can’t be a coincidence, right? Sure the person probably has the same boots I do so I discarded the thought.Later that afternoon after I got back home I did some research online for anything that could be related to yesterday’s case. What I found froze the very marrow in my bones. Turns out there were other cases of this happening at other locations near me. All of them that have been unsolved. Are we dealing with a serial killer here? Is this what we’re up against? I sure do hope not.As the sun went down I looked into the distance of my window. The killings, the footprints, everything related, somehow there was a connection. I looked down at my hands and found them to be covered in blood. where did this come from? I turned around me to find various tools on a wall in my room, along with various clippings from news articles detailing many murders. That’s when it clicked: the murderer that I’ve been going after, was myself. I was in shock when everything began to haze and become twisted. I fell onto the floor as I blacked out. Everything after that I don’t recall but only one feeling: Despair...  