The Collector

August 9, 2012 at 12:00 PM

The estimated reading time for this post is 2 minutes, 24 seconds

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The screen flickered as a man typed his story into the computer.
His mind was racing, and so was his heart.
He wanted the world to know as soon as possible about what he had discovered.
What lay ahead.
What nearly ended his life.
As he typed, he turned his head every now and then as though he was expecting something to attack him. His paranoid thoughts kept getting the best of him as he turned in a frantic movement, only to see the dark of his room.
The power was out, for some odd reason he didn’t know. This only added to the fear he had.
The shadows that came from the objects in his room made him feel crowded and small.
He felt scared.
He felt weak.
He felt alone.
A loud bang came from the hallway of his house. The sound of metal pots clanging together filled his ears. He started to type faster and more frantically, so people could be aware of this thing. It was in vain. He had finished the first few paragraphs but his fear got to him and he could not continue. Instead, he hid in the darkest part of his room, covered. Hoping, praying that this thing didn’t find him. He saw what it had done to others. He knew what would happen to him. And he knew that his chances of living were small. As he hid, he heard the breathing from this thing get closer, and he could hear the footsteps reaching his room. The door creaked open, and a small light from the candles he had placed shown into the room. He heard the door slam behind it, and the footsteps walk towards the computer. Something smashed against the wall directly above him. The object fell on his head and made a loud cracking sound. Though he was in a concussion now, he realized, with anguish and shock, that it was his computer. He heard the footsteps walk closer toward him, the heavy dragging of it’s feet reaching closer and closer. His breathing grew more frantic and heavy as his head throbbed in pain. The footsteps stopped right in front of where he was hiding, and then he heard no more. Almost as though it had vanished. He slowly pushed away the objects that hid him and opened his eyes. At first, he saw nothing. He felt relieved and let out a sigh. He jumped in shock as he heard a small chuckle from behind him. As this man turned, he uttered out a scream, but never finished. He was completely silenced from then on. His throat was slashed to keep him from screaming. His stomach was torn open and his internal organs were pulled out. The thing that tore him open opened a pouch and added his organs to an already stuffed bag, filled with various body parts. Before the man passed out, the thing stomped on his head with its ugly foot. His skull was smashed into bits.
One of the quickest deaths it has done.
The next morning, there was no trace of him. No blood, no body parts, not even the broken computer.
He had simply vanished. I witnessed this event from my house next door, and I know that soon, it will come for me.
It comes for anyone that knows of it. To the next person to read about him.
To the next person that read its story.
To the person that reads this.
You.
Good luck, my friend.
For as I type this, my own time runs out.

Credit To: brandon4117