The Real Town of Blanche

May 14, 2015 at 12:00 AM

The estimated reading time for this post is 26 minutes, 34 seconds

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I turn on the lamp as I sit down at my desk. I softly remove the ribbon that was holding the diary together. As I open the strange looking book, a hard smell of rotten pages hits me. Interestingly enough the text is still intelligible, something you wouldn’t really expect when you find a diary in a trashed house that has been burnt down by the owners. The police didn’t bother demolishing it, so they’ve just restricted access to foreign personnel. In order to gain access to the house you must go over to the police with your ID card, so you can prove that you are in one way or another, related to the former owners. My last name definitely helps. Or better said, the fact that an officer called me to warn me about the tragedy, helps even more. The officer stated that he found my phone number in an agenda that has also been spared by the fire. I was obviously in shock when I heard the story over the phone, so my first question was: “Is my brother and his family OK?” To which he replied: “They… they’re all dead!”. A moment of silence, followed by the officer’s worried voice: “Is everything alright, sir!??” snapped me back to reality. I had to fly over to Europe as soon as possible to investigate. When I arrived, as I priory mentioned, the police came to the conclusion that the fire was actually started by one of the family’s members. That didn’t really make much sense to me at that moment. In fact it didn’t make sense at all. How could’ve they known? But then again I am no expert, so I avoided posing questions just so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of a legalized and specialized institution that has been dealing with over 1000 crime cases over the course of a decade. But this was no crime at all, since there was no criminal to start the fire. I requested the permission to take a look at the house, and at my brother’s personal belongings, thinking that maybe I could find something that would lead me to the roots of this mystery.

John was always an excellent brother to me. You can probably already tell that he was the older one. He knew to work his way around tricky situations, that’s why I was shocked when I found out that he… died. I can already imagine him grabbing his wife’s hand, his kids, and bash right through the window over to safety, then pull out his phone and call the firefighters. But that didn’t happen. They all died. “WHY!??” I kept repeating over and over in my head, why…? When I entered the house, I couldn’t help but realize how fast they must have died. The fire must’ve been huge. A common misconception spread amongst many people, is that dying in a fire must be really painful, to be surrounded by tall flames, knowing there’s no way to escape but trying to dash through them, which ultimately might lead to you collapsing to the floor under the excruciating heat, burning there, like a stuffed turkey in an oven, the only difference being that you’re alive, and feeling the actual pain. Sure, burning alive is extremely painful, but in 99% of the cases, people die of smoke intoxication, before the flames even reach them. By the time the fire claims its victim and turns it into ash, the soul is long gone. That’s exactly what happened to John, my beloved brother, and his family. Their bodies were beyond recognition, only a slightly taller pile of dust helped the legists tell them apart from other objects that have been turned into dust and ashes by the fire. I headed to my brother’s room. It wasn’t difficult at all to move around and get through rooms and hallways. Obviously all the doors were gone. In fact pretty much everything made out of wood was gone. There was nothing for me to see there anymore… Or was it? As I was preparing to leave I stepped on a solid… solid something. I couldn’t tell what it was, until I bent down to look at it and swept the dust away. It was the diary. That was a little bit unsettling. How could have the diary survived? Well, even now by looking at it, I can tell it is in a deplorable state, but you’d normally expect it to be inexistent. Disregarding this peculiar fact, I picked up the diary, and decided to head off to an apartment I used to own downtown, when I still lived in Amsterdam. I didn’t sell it, thinking that I might visit John sometimes, but I never really got the time and the opportunity to do so, only now, under unpleasant circumstances, when it’s already too late. I moved to The States a long time ago. I think it’s been almost 8 years since I moved to San Francisco. But my brother always preferred Europe over America. He also loved traveling, God, how much he loved traveling with his family. Every holiday, which you’d probably spend wasting your time, he’d spend planning the perfect trip.

I remember him calling me last time, almost tripping with excitement, as he was telling me: “Oh God, I am so happy, you know that I never really got to see France. And now, after so many years, given the fact that I’ve been almost everywhere around Europe with my family, on my own money that I always struggle to gather before holidays begin, the company I work for has given me a salary raise to pay for my efforts since my boss told me that I am probably one of their most dedicated workers. Isn’t that just great!?” By then, I was having a hard time dealing with my own workplace, which I never really liked, so I was really stressed, always refused to go out with friends, and all that, but whenever you talked to John, he always cheered you up somehow. He had that tone in his voice that immediately gave you a boost of confidence and made you feel really good. He’s always been the optimistic guy, even in the worst of situations. On the other side, I don’t really classify myself as a pessimistic person, I’m more of a combination between an optimistic and a realistic guy. I do see things for what they are, but I try to get over with it whenever I’m having a bad time. His phone call really cheered me up that day. I responded: “Oh wow, that’s really great. I can’t believe it. You will get to see Cote d’Azur, Paris, and many other attractions I’d like to see as well [He knew that I just didn’t really have the time to go in these trips together with him due to my workplace]. I just… Wow… And your boss sounds like an amazing person. It’s finally starting to look good for you brother, it’s finally looking good!”. He replied: “I know Dan, I know, thanks for being supportive, you’ve always believed in me more than anyone else, and now, here I am, I did not disappoint you. I never really expected to go on a trip without having to gather money for it throughout a few months! We’re probably even going to afford a fancy hotel now, and all that good stuff –“. And the call suddenly stopped. I tried to call him back but he didn’t answer.

Later on he texted me that his phone battery died, but there wasn’t much for us to talk about anyway so he wished me good luck for my interview [I almost forgot to mention that I was planning to quit my old job, as I hated it so much, and the new one is still the job I love and own today], and that about sums it up. We haven’t spoken since then, only when he returned to Amsterdam from his trip, but we only had a quick Skype conversation, as he was preparing his kids for school. After that we’ve both been really busy, me with my new workplace, him in his new position at work, so we haven’t talked at all in almost two months. Until I received the call from the police officer. And now here I am, in my apartment, in Amsterdam, sitting at my desk, ready to open the diary to unveil its secrets. Not surprising at all, the first page of the diary just comes off the edge of the book. I can’t tell what’s going on, my mind is still having flashbacks, not letting me rationalize. I might need some sleep right now, but I… I feel like I have to read the diary. Me and my brother never had any secrets. Of course a diary is a personal thing, but if he’d owned one he would have told me. My eyes must be playing some sort of trick on me, this isn’t John’s handwriting… Oh wait, I think I know! It belongs to his son. I remember John telling me that his son really loved writing down stories about how their trips went, and much more. Each night he would close the door to his room, and write down everything that happened that day. It seems the diary was a habit he didn’t plan to give up on all of a sudden. There are no days missing. Except for the last week… It’s missing entirely. But there’s something even stranger. For a 10 year old boy, his handwriting is actually pretty. And John always praised about his good grades. So I guess he was a smart kid. Heh, just like his father… [I shed a tear that falls on the diary’s page, soaking the dry ink, making it spread a little bit on the corner of the page]. The strange thing that I notice is that his handwriting suddenly changed at one point in the diary. To be specific, on June 20th 2014, when they left Amsterdam for France. Now obviously, everybody’s handwriting changes at one point, but for a kid, quite unlikely.

One more thing I can’t pass by is that he progressively moved on to the usage of the word “friend” instead of “diary”. He moved on from “Dear diary”, to “Dear friend”. I don’t really know how much a diary can mean to a person, because I never owned one, but I guess there is a special connection to it, you know, something similar to a teddy bear. Hey, I’m not judging anyone. Well it’s finally time to start reading I guess:

“ Dear friend, [Exactly what I’ve said before]

France is awesome so far. I’m really enjoying it. Right now we’re sitting at an inn in Blanche– ”. Umm wait, what!?? I must admit that I am not good at geography, but to be really honest I’ve never heard of “Blanche” so far. Should I keep reading? “ Blanche is a strange town, but I guess it’s OK, we’re leaving soon anyway! ”. I’m confused. Good thing I brought my laptop with me, so I can look the name up. The name does return indeed some historical data related to France, Blanche was some sort of queen I think, but besides that, nothing more. There’s no town named Blanche located in France. He must have misspelled the name. I should continue reading:

“ I don’t know when, but we’ll be leaving. Our car broke down and daddy can’t really fix it right now. He says he must find some parts for the car or I don’t know. He looked a bit concerned. He loves his car. He’s had it for almost 6 years now. Mommy and sis aren’t that happy with the idea that we must stay in this town for a while. The good thing is that we can now afford separate rooms at the inn with daddy’s salary raise. It’s not that we can’t afford a hotel now, but there are no hotels in this… village. ” [Aha! So after all Blanche is in fact a village. Villages don’t usually show up on maps or Wikipedia. That must be it, he’s probably mistaken it for a town and found out later on that it’s a village] “ Also something really strange happened. But I can’t really be sure of it. Mom and dad say they’ve been hearing me talk in my sleep. But I don’t know what to say, I think they’re lying to me, or… Anyway time to go to sleep, that’s it for this day friend, see you tomorrow. Take good care of yourself.”

As I said, creepy. I don’t really know why he was treating the diary like a real person. Anyway, it’s getting late now, maybe I should go to sleep, but I really feel like I must uncover this mystery. I really want to know what happened. This diary might or might not hold the answers to my question, but I don’t really care right now:

“ Dear friend,

Today something amazing happened. I made a new friend. I wanted to be sure of it before I tell you. I’ve been dreaming of the same guy for a few nights, over and over again since we’ve arrived here in Blanche. He is a tall guy, with red eyes, but a pleasant red, I can’t really describe it, it’s not scary however. But it’s a bit creepy because I can never speak whenever he shows up in my dreams. He said that the only way for me to talk to him is you. But he said I must not let mommy and daddy or anyone else know. ” [Now what’s this? OK, fine, he is 10 year old, or, sorry, was 10 year old, but I think that the time for imaginary friends should be over by that age. Then again, I am in no position to judge anybody] “You are the only one allowed to know. He didn’t tell me his name however, and I don’t know how to address him. ‘Could you please tell me your name when we meet again?’ Also I can never make out of him more than his red eyes, he sits in the dark. There is light in my dreams, but he says light is bad for him, and he won’t show his face. But I’m sure he’s pretty. I don’t have many friends so I’m really happy with him. I actually want to go to sleep right now, to see him again, maybe we can play together! ”

Well, this is very unsettling. This doesn’t really seem like an ordinary imaginary friend, as he mentioned he only sees him in his dreams, and he’s been dreaming of him every night. This is really getting interesting, but I should go to sleep. My mind is playing tricks on me. I hear things cracking in the kitchen, and footsteps. But it’s the same as the story with the fire, only a different scenario. It’s just my imagination sending signals to my subconscious, trying to alter different aspects of reality, tricking me into thinking that something is wrong. The urge to check if everything is OK is almost uncontrollable for many people, but I am different. As I mentioned before, I am sort of a realistic guy. It’s probably nothing. I’m going to read a few more pages. After all, maybe I’ll be able to sleep better if I get to the end of this diary:

“ Dear friend,

Last night was awesome. I can really talk to him, through you. He said he can’t tell me his name, because he would be punished for that. Today I’m going to try out something more interesting. ‘Could you please do something about daddy’s car? Mom and sis really want to leave, they miss Amsterdam, and we haven’t even got to see Paris and the Eiffel Tower. I promise I won’t tell them it was you who fixed the car if you can do that! Nobody ever touches my diary, only me.’

Oh wow, now I’m not even sure whether I’m lucid or not right now. What am I reading? It’s a kid’s diary, I know that, I shouldn’t be that amazed, but it’s still creepy, and I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t even… There’s only one way to know. I know for sure John arrived in Paris on 26th of June, 2014 of course. He posted a picture on his Facebook, now that’s what I call a fancy selfie, with the Eiffel Tower in the background. And this page of the diary was apparently written on 25th of June. I, I should read it, but…:

“ Dear friend,

He did it! Daddy’s car is now working. I don’t know how, or what kind of powers he has, but he helped us get out of that village, and now we’re in Paris. ‘Thank you very much!’ Also I feel like I should apologize to him as well. As we were preparing to leave Blanche, daddy went into my room to pack my things. Please never have me go through such panic again. It was OK for daddy to see you and even read you before, but now it’s forbidden, I’ve already told you, that’s what the man with the red eyes said. ‘I am really sorry! The diary fell off the table, and somehow opened at the latest page. Daddy picked it up and probably wanted to read it, but fortunately I stepped into the room at the right time to stop him from doing so! It won’t happen again, I promise!’ Something strange happened as well. As we were leaving, when my parents weren’t around, the innkeeper walked up to me and gave me a ribbon [Probably the one I’ve just removed earlier], a beautiful one. I asked him: ‘What’s this for?’ And he said to me: ‘Oh, you know you don’t want mommy and daddy to open that diary. This will hold the pages together, preventing anyone from reading it.’ Before I had time to ask him another question he went off to welcome the new guests. That startled me a bit. Why did that happen? How did he know that mommy and daddy were not supposed to read the diary? Did he actually find it and read it? I know I was the only one with a key to my room, but obviously he must have had a spare one in case I lost mine. But I’ve spent almost all my time in my room. I never left for more than 30 minutes as there wasn’t much you could do in town. ” [He’s calling it town again] “ I… I don’t know. I didn’t like that man very much. He’s been strange since we’ve arrived in Blanche. But he wasn’t even probably a bad person after all, I think. He must have seen me writing to you, and that’s all. Then again I don’t blame him, I don’t really like strangers at all, I don’t hate him specifically! ”

I am speechless. So they did leave Blanche on 26th of June, and the car was fixed miraculously. Or not that miraculously, now that I know the story behind it. Is it just a pure coincidence in fact? Did John find the parts for the car that very day? Is the man with the red eyes real? Was his son a shy person that didn’t have many friends? Why did he start mentioning the man with the red eyes only after they arrived in Blanche? So many questions. I don’t know what to believe. I am curious to what the diary has to offer me furthermore. But at the same time I feel afraid. And even more tired, but scared, I can’t go to sleep right now. Who is the man with the red eyes? I guess I have to keep reading.

“ Dear friend,

We are back home. Tomorrow’s first day of school. My daddy and the teachers say I’m a really good student. But I hate going to school because of my classmates. I think that it’s time for a change. I’m going to need the help of the man with the red eyes. But first, I will wait. What if they changed during this holiday? I hope they will treat me accordingly, or else it might get nasty for them. I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I don’t like being hurt by someone else. I’ve talked to daddy and he said revenge is not good. He proceeded to speak with my teachers, and they’ve calmed down for a week or two. School ended shortly after that. Tomorrow’s a new beginning for me, and hopefully for them. ‘I don’t know who you are, but thanks for coming with me. I appreciate your support. So far I’ve asked you to help me with minor things, but tomorrow that might change.’

Did I leave the window open? I feel a slight breeze. Or is it my imagination again. Most likely. I am pretty sure I closed it, or did I? It doesn’t matter. I am by far shocked by the stories I’m reading right now. I don’t feel any better. I must keep reading:

“ Dear friend,

As I assumed, they haven’t changed at all, they started bullying me again. I knew they would do that, but I still had to make sure. Normally I’d speak to daddy again, but this time I’m not going to do it. This time it will be different. ‘I really hate Ray. He’s the worst. He never leaves me alone. Could you please make him stay at home? For a while at least? I promise nobody will ever know it was you, not even if the teachers ask what’s happened to him! Thanks in advance, and see you tonight!’

I don’t know what to expect anymore. At some point or another, it was pretty obvious that he was going to ask for something like that. But continuing reading the diary will reveal whether the “car fixing itself” was just a mere coincidence, or the man with the red eyes is… real. I’m still hoping for the best. The man with the red eyes must be the work of a boy with an extraordinary imagination that unfortunately passed away. The only explanation as to why the man with the red eyes started to show up in his dreams only when they arrived in Blanche, is because they were on holiday. I will explain. In fact, this page of the diary might be the answer I’m looking for. You see, if he was bullied on a daily basis, he’s also must been really stressed. The mind was desperately trying to find a way to release that stress, but he was fearing the next day of school. He probably wanted to stay at home, in his room, alone with his diary. But he had to go to school. When holidays finally arrived, he started to feel a little bit relieved. And his mind created the man with the red eyes in order to get rid of all the stress he’s gathered during school days. John probably fixed the car, no, John definitely fixed the car. If he hadn’t fixed it that very day, the man with the red eyes would’ve most likely dissolved into inexistence, due to the fact that John’s son would’ve felt deceived by the man with the red eyes, betrayed. But given the fact that John somehow fixed the car, it fed his son’s imagination, tricking him into thinking that the man with the red eyes fixed the car in fact. And so he lived on in the boy’s imagination, up until now…

That’s my take on the story, and I strongly believe that I am right, no matter what. It can’t be any other way. I remember when I was a kid, I also used to have an imaginary friend, when I was about 7 or 8, but I soon realized there’s no such thing as imaginary friends. So I simply gave up on him. Soon I made real friends which were more fun to play with, obviously. At the age of 10 I might have even forgotten his name. It’s useless to try to recall it now. L… L something, I don’t know… I don’t care. However, my imaginary friend did have a name. The man with the red eyes has no name apparently. Well, I mean John’s son mentioned in the diary that the man with the red eyes would be punished for saying his name. What could that possibly mean? I am upset with the fact that he didn’t insist upon finding out his name. Usually kids are very curious at the age of 10. I wonder if… Nah, it can’t be. I definitely need sleep right now. But still… I might give it a shot after I finish reading the diary, not too many pages left anyway. I… I just feel like writing down a simple question in the diary: “What’s your name?”, and then go to sleep, but that won’t lead anywhere. I am already being delusional, it’s a bit disturbing to read such stories told by a 10 year old kid. But the next page of the diary will finally reveal the truth, I hope:

“ Dear friend,

Today I found out something rather disturbing. I am thankful to the man with the red eyes for the fact that Ray did not come to school today. But… I found out that he got ran over by a car, and he died. ‘Please don’t do this again. The teacher was upset with me when I told her that he had it coming for being mean to me, but I didn’t know at that time that he died. Today nobody bullied me, but I didn’t expect you to kill him, why did you do that!?? We must talk tonight. I am mad at you!’

Yeah… OK, this is… odd. Well, this should have shown up on the local news and newspapers. I should try and look it up on my laptop. […] Oh God…, he is right. But that’s not all to it. The page in the diary dates 3rd of September. You’d normally expect the newspaper to go stir crazy about the story the very next day. But they published the story on 5th of September only, and it’s…, well:

“[…] His parents state that Ray wasn’t the best kid in town, but definitely not the type that would like to get in trouble. The driver that committed this horrible crime is yet to be found, as there weren’t many witnesses at that point, and he just drove off like nothing happened. The police has set up control points in the major areas of the city. No driver is allowed to leave this town, until the criminal is located and arrested. A peculiar fact is that Ray’s teacher, completely terrified by this incident, died the very next day to what the medics would believe to be a heart attack. The strange thing is that she’d never had any health problems.”

So the teacher died as well… Why!?? There’s no request for a punishment in the diary. There’s only this line which I’ve previously read: ‘The teacher was upset with me when I told her that he had it coming for being mean to me, but I didn’t know at that time that he died.’ So why did she die as well? Was it AGAIN, only a coincidence? Was Ray’s death a coincidence? I have to keep reading the diary:

“ Dear friend,

He killed my teacher too. Why did he do that? I didn’t say I was upset with her. I only said that SHE was upset with me, and the man with the red eyes finished her off, just like he did with Ray. I don’t like him anymore. Last night he was really scary. He wouldn’t talk to me anymore. But he had a really big and creepy grin. He would stare at me but… I think he moved closer to me, and it’s getting darker in my dreams. I’m afraid of him. I don’t want to sleep anymore. ‘Please stop killing people, I don’t like it!’

I am almost getting to the end of this diary, but I still refuse to believe that the man with the red eyes is real. However, he seems to be the only… “logical” explanation to all these events invading all of sudden John’s son life. To be really honest now, the real problem here is that not many 10 year old kids own a diary. As a parent, I would be a bit concerned about my son owning a diary at such a young age. Again, I know that a diary is a personal thing, but as a parent, I would check it from time to time, just to see what my child is trying to hide from me. I must admit however, that I’d have no idea what to do if I found a diary such as this one. Call the police? Call a psychiatrist?

Nevertheless John should have done something about it. I’m in no position to judge but as I mentioned before, he always had an answer to his problems. But most likely he was unaware of his son’s “imaginary friend”, the man with the red eyes… I can’t be surprised anymore, no matter what the next page in the diary holds for me, however… this isn’t John’s son writing. WHAT!??… WHAT’S THIS:

“ Dear friend,

I am starting to like the man with the red eyes again! ‘I really like you, man with the red eyes. Can you please do me the biggest favor of all times? Daddy can be really annoying sometimes, walking into my room without permission. He never touched my diary, but he might be tempted to do so one day. It’s already too dangerous to be around my family. Make daddy grab a gasoline tank and spread it around the house, make him do this at night, when everyone’s sleeping. He should save the last drops for him, sis, mommy and…me! He should then grab a lighter and set the house on fire, together with us. I am really sorry it had to come to this, but I just can’t be around you anymore, maybe you’ll find a new friend, a worthy one, I am really sorry that I couldn’t live up to your expectations! But this way you will be free, you won’t be tied to me anymore, and that’s what you do with those you love. You set them free!’

I said that nothing can surprise me anymore, oh how wrong I was… WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?? Was it someone else that has been using John’s son diary? Or… was it actually still him!??

“ Dear friend,

I am CRYING. I am really scared. I don’t know what to do, what’s this? A random page showed up, and I am sure it wasn’t me who wrote it! Why? Who did this? It must have been the man with the red eyes. Last night he was laughing in my dream, and he still wouldn’t talk to me, I could feel him getting closer and closer to me. I am afraid. I won’t sleep anymore. I don’t want my family to die. I don’t want to die. Please, someone help me. ‘Why are you doing this to me? Please leave, please stop it! I don’t want to talk to you anymore… YOU’RE NOT A FRIEND ANYMORE. You can only hurt me if I go to sleep, but tonight I won’t sleep!’

Wow, I have some really bad habits. When I’m really focused, I start playing with stuff around me. Well, normally what kids usually do, you know, chewing on a pen, etc. But… I’m holding a cutter, playing with it. Was it here on my desk all the time? Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I can hear noises again, footsteps.. It must’ve been on the desk. I was just too busy to notice it, because of this diary. The next page is really scribbled:

“ Dear friend,

I am still alive. We… are still alive, I haven’t slept the entire night, and this is the first time I’m writing to you in the morning. The man with the red eyes was… under my bad last night. I could hear him whispering to me, trying to persuade me to go to sleep. I was keeping my eyes wide open, so I wouldn’t fall asleep, but I imagined him showing up in front of my face and dragging me under the bed. I was sobbing silently. I think he was enjoying it. I am afraid, I don’t know what to do, but I still have to go to school, I will take you with me this time! ”

This was played smartly by him. He took the diary with him. Well at least I think it was a smart move. And apparently the man with the red eyes can only attack while he sleeps. That’s really strange, but… I guess he couldn’t take it anymore without some sleep, since they… died. Oh and I was wrong about them not suffering as well. If what the diary states is true, John must have set himself, his family, and the house on fire. Looks like I am getting to the bottom of this story. I wouldn’t be surprised however if I wake up tomorrow to find out that I am just being delirious, and nothing bad happened in fact, only an unfortunate accident, and this diary is in fact not readable, only my mind making up stories. That has to be it, but I have to finish reading it:

“ Dear friend,

I am crying again, I think it’s going to be over soon. My new teacher sent me home, thinking that I am sick, because I fell asleep for 5 minutes during her class. I didn’t tell my parents yet, just so they wouldn’t force me to go to sleep, but I don’t know how much I can take it anymore. Right now, I can hear daddy talking to my teacher on the phone, in the kitchen. I tried to listen to them using the extension phone, but daddy heard me breathing and told me to hang up. He might be coming upstairs in a couple Of minutes. It’s too late already, I will miss you, this might be the last page I am writing. You’ve been together with me whenever I needed help. You were my best friend, and now somehow you are also the one who tied me to this hideous creature that won’t tell me his name. The man with the red eyes, oh, how much I hate him. If I fall asleep, it’s over… over!
I took a break, daddy came into my room, as I’ve told you before. He said that trying to hide the fact that I am sick is not good for me, and he forced me to take a pill, an antibiotic probably, which usually causes sleepiness. I tried to tell him about the man with the red eyes, but I guess it’s too late, he didn’t believe me, he blamed it on my fever. An inexistent fever… ‘I beg of you once more, please spare us, what did I do wrong? I considered you my friend, please leave, go back to where you belong. I regret the day I started dreaming about you, in Blanche!’

And that’s the end of this page, but there seems to be one more page. He said this would be his last one. Was he really able to control his urge to sleep? Impossible. The last pages are glued together, probably due to the fire… Well, I guess the cutter isn’t useless after all. But… it was dry blood holding the pages together… This is it, the moment of truth, what can the last page possibly hold for me, since I am certain John’s son fell asleep that very day… leading to their deaths. It’s the scribbled different writing again. And… I see my name written in capital letters. I will read the page entirely however:

“ Dear friend,

These are my last words. I am going to die for my best friend, the friend that I love the most, the man with the red eyes. ‘I first freed you from Blanche, taking you with me, but you obviously returned the favor by fulfilling the wishes I’d write down here. Tonight you will be truly free. But for that, we all must die. It’s not going to be hard, I will be falling asleep soon, and that will sort me, mommy, daddy and sister out. DAN, daddy’s brother will find out about what happened to us. He will obviously want to investigate, no matter what. He will find this diary, and he’ll start reading it. But as he progresses and gets through more pages, he will become paranoid. He’ll start hearing strange sounds, footsteps, wood creaking, whispers. He won’t take it seriously. He will blame it on the lack of sleep. At one point or another, he will feel a light breeze. Unbeknownst to him, he will go and shut the open window, and also grab a cutter from the kitchen. As he continues to read the diary, he will start carving the desk with the cutter, until he becomes aware of it at one point, leaving him confused for a few seconds. He will then proceed to use it to unglue this last page from the previous one, and notice some of my blood drops. He won’t get to finish reading this page. He will notice his name that I’ve just written down before, but as soon as he starts reading the page, unaware of his hand gestures, he will take the cutter, and stab his left hand, cutting his veins. He will sit there at the desk, with the life flowing out of him. When he’ll realize what he’s done, it’s going to be way too late for him. And that is, when you will be free!’

Credit To – Gothard Eduard; Schiau Remus