“Write what you know” that saying has followed me around my entire life. “Write what you know. Write what you fucking know." I hate that damn phrase. It has followed me since I was a child. Followed me into every assignment in my creative writing class in school. Followed me to my last day at university. Followed me when I interned at MANI broadcasting news. “Write what you know” has followed me like an infectious disease spread by the inept and the ignorant. People who didn’t know what the hell that they were talking about.
What am I on about, you might be asking? You’re all probably very curious about why I did what I did. Well I just wanted to give you all some context before I got into the meat of the story.... Just like someone who knows the hell what they are doing would do. Not that long ago, I was a reporter for a political news station called Fennec News in Washington D.C. Before you state it, YES, I am very aware that that station has never existed. It never existed here that is. So I was a reporter for this station, having to interview senators and politicians about crap that I couldn’t care for. I wasn’t in the best situation at this point in time. I was coming close to my mid-thirties and all I had to show for it was a grocery list of lazy journalism articles that I had to write for a bigoted news station spreading made up hyperbolic information to a gullible mass. I had become nothing that I worked so hard to be. I was another tiny gear in a faulty machine. Just doing the same motion without a well thought out calculation to my actions. Which explains why I can’t remember what it was that I was at Harvard Street for. And YES, I know that that isn’t a street in D.C..
But there I was standing in the middle of the street, shoulder to shoulder with the lobotomized zombies that were the president’s supporters. It was a different man to the one that’s in the office right now, this one was even more of a liar than the one that you’ve gotten used to. But then again, all of them were. They always are. And it’s always clear as day, yet no one can see that except for the one that they like to say doesn’t know jack.
The president stood at this podium with a mic that was probably turned up to 11 just so he could make it clear to everyone that we were beneath him and spooked like mice. All of sudden, the sky which until that moment was a meaningless clear blue sky became cloudy and very...very red. A sickly crimson red covered the sky putting everyone that saw it in puzzlement. Then a single drop of rain dropped on my head. At least, that’s what I thought it was at first. I mean, when I looked around the crowd I swore I saw one guy open his umbrella. But then I touched it and looked at what it was that landed on me.
What it was wasn’t regular rain water. What it was, was blood. A couple more drops fell from the sky landing on different people, all of them realizing that it was blood. I looked up at the sky and for some reason the moment that I did that, it began to rain hard. It was like someone stabbed the sky making it bleed. Most of the people there just ran for shelter, but a few including me just stood there. Frozen from the bizarre nature of what was going on. It was raining blood, how the hell could you process that? You don’t. You just stand there like the bowling pin in the back of the rack. Unable to see the fast ball coming your way.
What does that even mean? Well, that’s because that's what we were... Bowling pins. A 10 feet tall ball of something plowed through the people near me. It happened so fast that to be completely honest, I can’t tell what it was. Plus, the raining blood made seeing anything far from you impossible. But I could tell that the people were smashed, exploded, absolutely obliterated. These people were turned from a tightly secure structure of thoughts and desires into nothing but limbs and guts so disassembled to the point of not knowing where one piece started and the other piece ended.
That was all that was needed for me to get back control of my own body and I booked it. I ran for my life not knowing where the hell I was going. But I wasn’t gonna stop, wasn’t even gonna give the thought of stopping the time of day. I was like a janky lawn tracker accidently set to full speed. As I ran, I could hear the sounds of people screaming ear piercing screams as they cried for a kind of help that was never gonna come for them. I have read a couple of these horror stories you’re kind have written and I find it odd how descriptive they are during times of ciaos. Because I know why they were screaming, they were being killed by monsters. That’s right, I said monsters. But could I describe what they looked like? Of course not. Everything was so hectic and insane, my brain was like it was being put through a washing machine.
I can’t even remember how I got inside this radio store. My mind must’ve turned itself off and let the instincts take the wheel. I just remember being in mid-process barricading the entrance with tv’s, radio’s, whatever I can find in the store...While there was a family of three on the other end of the door, desperately trying to get inside the store...I let a family of three die...I just realized that now.
Anyways, I turned around and was faced with some indescribable creature. It’s been sometime, I’ve had a moment to process the information, and I still can’t describe this...Thing. Parts of it looked human, but it wasn’t humanoid. Parts looked like a goat, but it definitely wasn’t a fucking goat. I can’t even say it looked like the clique depiction of a demon. It was a jumbled mess of anatomy and features. It reached for me and I awoke somewhere different. I couldn’t breath, I was surrounded by water.
I swam up to the surface where I realized I was at a beach. Not some demonic beach, with the devil kicking back on the sand. Which sounds ridiculous, but I would’ve rather had that be the case than what was actually going on. Because once I got to shore, found the nearest city, and figured out where I was at I realized that I was at D.C.. There’s no beaches in D.C. was my first thought. I tried to get back to Harvard street, but I couldn’t find it. And when I asked the people around me about it, they looked at me like a crazy person. And as you could predict, I couldn’t find any records of Fennec news.
I couldn’t find my home, my friends, or my family. They were all gone. Every single one of them…The life that I had till that moment was no more as if it was erased from existence. I was in an unfamiliar world far removed from the one I grew to recognize. So imagine my shock when I was met with a police officer and a woman who I later came to learn was my psychiatrist driving up to me and taking me away to a madhouse filled with nut jobs. They explained to me how I was escaping mental patient suffering from hallucinations caused by a rough childhood. Complete bullshit.
I spent years there. Years of desperately explaining what has happened to me, what I saw, what I had to do, and what it led me to. No one believed me, no one ever fucking believes me. Not even my psychiatrist, I told the truth over and over, and she never believed me. Then she had the gall to say to me “you should write what you know.... " Well not to those exact words, but it was the same gist. “Write what you know. Write what you fucking know."
It followed me, that fucking saying! The only thing from the life that I knew was the thing that ruined me! Cause me to become an empty man dumping out garbage to a moronic group of people! It followed me! It fucking followed me! This raced through my mind like a record that a cat scratched the shit out of. A rage built inside me, my instincts kicked in, my mind shut off for a moment. When I came to, I realized that I was standing over the lifeless body of the psychiatrist. I must’ve bashed her head in with a lamp or something. I couldn’t really tell, I was taken back as I looked around the now blood covered room and thought to myself, “It’s as if it had rained blood in here....
“Write what you know”. What people don’t understand is that it isn’t “Write what you know”. No, It’s “write what you feel”. As I stood over the cunts body, I felt...reinvigorated. Because for the longest time, I only felt hatred. Hatred for the people that knocked me down all of my life. Hatred for the idiots that don’t know shit about anything but yet like to lecture you about anything anyways. But now...I feel joy. A lot of fucking joy. Because I’m out now. I’m just leaving this letter out for you to know that I’m out there. And I’m coming for you. I’m coming for all of you.
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I don’t know Greg. Maybe you should Write what you know…
Also work on your fucking grammar.