My friend’s diary ends differently than I remembered

When I was young, me and my childhood-best friend were writing diaries.

“Childish” you’d say? Maybe. To be fair, we were children back then. We used to go to the same school and were really close. Even our teachers joked about us never separating. We really never did. Always together. Knowing that, you can imagine our reaction when we learned that my friend’s parents are moving to the other side of the country. We were, to say the least, not happy. Of course, we promised each other that we’ll keep in contact. And to make sure that we will remember each other no matter what: we decided to exchange our diaries.

“Cute” you’d say. Maybe. The point was to know what we really thought about each other. An evidence that our friendship was pure. And a good way of learning about yourself from someone else’s perspective. Especially from someone who knows you better than you do. A friend. I used what he had written about me to improve myself. I hope he did the same.
We often called each other after that. Even met sometimes (mostly during vacations), but you know how it is. You meet new people. Get new friends. Life changes. You move on. Don’t get me wrong though, I didn’t stop liking him. It’s just that our lives grew apart. That happens sometimes. At some point, we simply lost contact. We grew up.

Fast forward a few years. I was cleaning up the attic and, surprise! You can imagine the sudden feeling of nostalgia that struck me when I found his diary among some of my old belongings. It was squished between my old notebooks, gaining dust. Funnily, there was a time when I remembered it better than most obligatory books I read for school. I could recite some of its entries from memory; then I forgot about it. Not sure how long ago.

Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I found it. After all these years of it being stuck somewhere in oblivion. Obviously, I immediately thought to read it. To remind myself of the good old times. And of my old friend. I thought about calling him later.

To my surprise, I remembered more than I had imagined. And most of the bad things he wrote about me were no longer a problem. It seems I grew up alright. I didn’t even realize how much I’d changed. Back then I was troublesome, lazy and timid; today I’m a lot braver, more serious, independent and hardworking. I have a job, a fiancé, friends, and money. And I’m humble, of course. Jokes aside, I wonder if my change was caused in part by this diary. Could his rambling have changed me so much?

Anyway, it was fun to have a memory trip. Some fun memories. Some sad memories. Some cringy. He was always an observant one. Lots of details. I wonder what did I write in my diaries. I wanted to ask my friend about it during the call but when I read it all the way through, I had a different set of questions ready.

I spent way too much time in the attic, reading. „My fiancé is going to kill me” I thought but the lecture was too interesting to let go. I let out a sigh of relief when the entries were closing to an end; but at the same time, sadness flooded my mind. Nostalgia. I even shed a tear during the memory of the last day before they moved. We went on the last tour around the town. Visited our classmates. Had a little party. And at the end of the day, we went to our favorite pizzeria and ate at least three big pizzas.

I was ready to put it down after that, being sure that there is nothing more in it. However something made me check the next page; just to make sure. I turn the paper and, second surprise! There was one more entry for me to read. I was already way too late to finish the cleaning before the sunset anyway, so I didn’t mind spending more time in my (and my friend’s) memories. But I was also quite disoriented. I was sure that we exchanged our diaries the following morning; a while before they left for the plane. Did something worth noting happened during the night? I would’ve remembered, wouldn’t I? I was curious, but soon the curiosity changed into fear and fear changed into disorientation. And even bigger curiosity.

First of all, it lacked the date, unlike all the other entries. Secondly, its length was, well… it was a bit longer than the rest of them. Actually, there is no point in describing it. I will just copy it here; for you to judge.

“Dear diary,
Today, I died.
An usual beginning, I know, but what can be done? It’s not that I hadn’t seen it coming. Just thought to let you know. Since I’m here I might as well describe it. It went more or less like this:
Last evening I finished the last entry and then went to bed, as always. I fell asleep almost immediately. Wasn’t a pleasant sleep though. I had some terrible nightmares that night.
I woke up sweating. The sun was slowly rising and I could easily see my room without any lights on. I was laying down for a while unable to decide whether to get up or go back to sleep when suddenly I felt something move on my leg. At first, I thought that it was just my leg hairs moving but my instinct made me check to make sure. I uncovered myself and looked down. My heart skipped a beat.

I saw a big bug sitting on my leg. I mean, GIGANTIC. It wasn’t moving but I swear it was looking straight into my eyes. I’m not scared of bugs but having one on your skin isn’t a particularly pleasant feeling. And that one looked terrifying. I screamed and started shaking my leg hoping to get it off me. It held on and I don’t think it liked the rodeo. It bit me. It hurt like hell. Almost as if the bug tried to get under my skin or something. It was horrible.
I quickly got up and pushed it off me. It fell on the carpet and I could now see blood flowing from a hole in my skin. The insect didn’t plan on giving up though. The moment I lost my guard, thinking that it will now simply run away from me, as insects tend to do, it got on my other leg and bit me again. It hurt even more than the last one.

I started jumping on one leg in horror. It must’ve looked funny. The bug unsurprisingly didn’t fall off and instead bit me again. Then moved some steps upward and did it again. And then again. And again.

It made a path of bite marks until I finally managed to get myself together and punched it off me. It fell off but this time I didn’t wait for it to get back on me and instead fled the room sprinting.

The hallway outside had no windows so the sunlight wasn’t lighting it up. It was extremely dark and I missed the light switch just outside the room. The fear didn’t let me turn back and flip it so I had to go all the way to the other end blind, trying my best not to trip on anything on the way and knowing damn well that the thing is catching up.

Upon flipping the switch I got blinded by the light and while I was rubbing my eyes to help them get used to it faster I felt something on my leg again. I automatically started jumping around on one leg and maniacally shaking the other hoping to get anything that was on it off it, all that while still rubbing my eyes and trying not to blind myself. It continued until I slipped on the floor and fell over.

The good news was that my eyes finally got used to the light so I could see that it was just my imagination. The bad news was that the sight of that damned thing sprinting top speed towards me from my room wasn’t my imagination.

I got up, almost passing out in the process, sprinted to my living room and jumped on one of the chairs hoping that it won’t be able to reach me. The bug however didn’t even hesitate to fly up straight onto my foot and climb up my leg while I had to keep balance not to fall off.

It took a while for me to grasp what had happened so the creature had enough time to reach my belly and bite me again a couple of times. Each being more painful than the previous. I instantly felt nauseous so, afraid that I might fall any moment now, I jumped off the chair, slipped on something, probably sweat, and fell on my living room carpet. This allowed that horrible thing to reach my face and bite me yet again, on my cheek. I swear that it was aiming for the eye though.

Rest assured that it wasn’t any less painful than its previous bites. I felt like someone had hammered a red hot nail right under my eye socket and I was unable to pull it out. I managed to grab the bug and pull it away from my face.

I threw it on the floor as hard as I could hoping to finally end its rampage and, while it was still disoriented, I grabbed a chair and smashed it with its leg as hard as I could. The leg almost broke off the first time but that thing was still way too lively for me so I smashed it a few more times; until it finally stopped moving. I could finally see it in its entirety. It was enormous. A gigantic animal at least the size of my foot. Looking at it wasn’t good for my psyche so I quickly run to the bathroom to see the damage it did to my body.

I got under the shower and washed off the leftover blood from my legs and stomach. Most of the wounds, small as they have been, have healed by then and I was left with a few nasty-looking, swollen marks that hurt when I touched them.

I decided to call the emergency services in case that thing was venomous so I got out of the bathroom to grab my phone and saw that the dreaded thing had disappeared. Words cannot express what I felt standing there. I was once again left with a rogue, wild insect roaming somewhere nearby. It could jump and bite me again any moment so I instinctively run out of my flat. Still naked.

I felt safe, although it was quite cold in the hall and I was now afraid that someone might see me nude. Also, my phone remained inside and I didn’t have the balls to go back and grab it. I didn’t have the nerve to ask any of my neighbors for help either. Most of them were probably still asleep anyway. Instead, I, which was quite stupid, run to my car and wanted to drive to the nearby hospital. A silly idea I know, but you must understand that I was under a lot of stress and wasn’t thinking straight. Either way, I didn’t even manage to drive off.

I only managed to get to the underground garage until I lost control of my legs’ muscles. I suddenly fell over. I felt no pain before it, nothing to indicate that something like that would happen. My legs simply went numb for seemingly no reason. Anyway, I’m thankful that it didn’t happen in my flat or while I was driving. I can only imagine what would’ve happened then.

Nevertheless, I was far from fine. I laid on a freezing floor in the darkness. I had to crawl all the way to my car and pull myself inside. I had never wished about losing some weight more. In a way, my wish was soon to come true.

I laid still on my backseat not knowing what to do. I didn’t have any means of contacting anybody. My only hope was that someone would find me there. If the venom had been lethal, I would’ve probably been dead by then, so I wasn’t fearing for my own life. I was just afraid that I might lose my legs. Or that the paralysis will continue to spread through my entire body. I wasn’t thinking about death. I was still alive after all. Unfortunately.

A while passed. The adrenaline was gone and the fatigue made it hard to get someone’s attention. I was way too tired to scream. I even fell asleep for a while and when I woke up, again covered in sweat, the paralysis seemed to have faded away. I again had full control over my body. I felt relieved and thought that whatever the thing injected into my body had since disappeared and everything will be fine now. Heh…

I got up and left my car. I had felt quite fine until a wave of terrible pain struck me. I looked down at my leg and saw a small bulge in the place where that terrible thing bit me.

Something was under my skin. I felt it slowly moving back and forth. Hurting me from within. And I could do nothing with it. I just had to wait for whatever was inside to bite its way out. Suddenly blood started to flow down my leg onto the upholstering. Something was eating me and I could do nothing to stop it. The whole mark turned purple. It seemed like my veins were completely devastated. All while I was calmly waiting for ‘it’ to peek outside.
After a while, it finally bit out a hole big enough to get out. Blood exploded out of my new wound. I tried my best to stay focused and grabbed it the moment it reached out. I pulled it out with full force, tearing an even bigger hole in my body. There was a lot of blood on me and the floor around me. I could barely see with my eyes full of tears.

While I lamented my fate it had bitten my hand and tore the flesh out of it. Motherfucker must’ve had iron spikes instead of teeth. I don’t know if I have thrown something with as much amount of force as I did that creature. I heard it splash onto a wall beside my car and it was just the beginning.

From every bitemark something had started to emerge, pushing its way through a freshly made wound onto the world but instead of running for their life they stayed to feast on my flesh and I still couldn’t fucking see.

And while I was desperately rubbing my eyes in hopes of regaining normal vision, they were slowly biting my skin off. Hundreds of little creatures were eating my legs and I could do nothing about it. Jumping around maniacally didn’t seem to work either. Those things have a strong grip. I run around in circles with tears still flowing down my face, hoping for that to get them off me. The pain was unbearable.

At some point, I even started to smash those creatures on my car despite the open wounds and pain that every hit had endorsed. It has proved ineffective but at least that kept them busy and I had enough time to clean my eyes and finally see what exactly was slowly eating me alive.

Larvae. Lots of little, newborn bugs eating my skin and drinking my blood. Some of them were already smashed, some wounded but still biting. I began to push them off me and smash them with my bare feet. Although that seemed to only anger them.

On top of that there were still some bitemarks that were ‘unopened’, so even getting rid of all those already on me wouldn’t mean the end. I was like an unfortunate leaf. At least I could fight back somehow but I didn’t stand much chance alone. I screamed but there was nobody around. And even if someone had come for help it wouldn’t immediately cease the pain. Besides, the bugs would probably try to eat that person too. Little devils.

Since smashing them has proven itself to be inefficient, I decided to cut the little bastards in half and maybe scare them this way. I always keep (or rather ‘kept’) a pocket knife inside the glove compartment, I keep the strangest stuff there, so I quickly hopped inside the car to get it. The vermin quickly took advantage of my position and started to climb onto my back, arms and head, bringing more pain onto my poor body and mind.

While they were slowly covering my face and trying to get inside my eyes, ears and mouth I reached the glove compartment. While they were biting me from the inside of my nostrils I grabbed the knife. I didn’t want to end up with a nose wound, so I had to blow them out of my nose first and almost passed out afterward, not being able to safely breathe.

A little dizzy and not thinking straight, I started to kill them one by one. Starting with the ones already off my body. I made lots of holes, but there were so many. I had to get rid of them all. I got one that was on my arm. Sliced the bastard in half. I also sliced through my skin but there was no time to lament on that. I sliced another and another and one by one I got them all off my arm. Fortunately, none hid under my skin. I still had to check though.
I finally found a way to get rid of them. A painful way. My arm was now covered in not only bites but also cuts. Those were bleeding quite badly but the pain from everywhere else distracted me, so instead of worrying about it I now moved to my other arm. There were even more of them there and I had to kill them with my left hand instead so I can’t call my moves ‘precise’. The wounds were even deeper and the pain bigger but still not as bad as those things’ bites.

So I kept slicing them. And smashing them. Even biting them open if they managed to get inside my mouth. What a sweet feeling it was! Not the taste. The sweet revenge! They deserved that. All that. For all the pain they brought to me. They deserved it!

After a while, my right arm has been “cleansed” too. It was far from clean though. Blood soaked in streams from my newly acquired wounds and it seems that larvae aren’t necessarily empty on the inside too. As adrenaline slowly faded away the pain started to kick in. Every move hurt. And it wasn’t even over yet.

My legs looked as if they had got stuck in some leg trap that was then brutally pulled off. There barely was any place that wasn’t bleeding. And bugs were still having a feast. Eating the ‘leaf’ in its entirety. There were so many of them. I realized that my knife alone was not enough to save me. I needed something that, if not kill them, would at least scare them off. So I asked myself: ‘What can scare off wild creatures?’

‘Fire.’ I answered. ‘Fire can.’

I had a spare canister of fuel in the back and a lighter along with some old rags in that same glove compartment. Their presence still hurt me because they were constantly touching my wounds but at least they stopped biting me as frequently now. That gave me a little more strength. Enough to grab both of the things and prepare a small barbeque.

I spilled the fuel on a bunch of rags and set them on fire. It ignited almost immediately but I knew that it wouldn’t last long so to make sure I’ll get them all off me I stepped inside the fire. The thought that it could finally ease the pain was simply too tempting not to try and I was just so tired. I just wanted it to stop.

And it did. All of them got off my legs. And those that didn’t were burnt. That damned vermin was no longer a problem. On the flip side, my legs were in such horrible shape that I couldn’t even move them anymore. I fell over and had to pull myself out of the fire. My legs were now coaled. And to think that I was scared of losing them, just a while ago. I suppose they were already dead.

There I laid on a cold garage floor yet again. The fire helped make the atmosphere cozy though. And the smell of petrol was nice. I’d have been happy if I hadn’t been bleeding to death. Despite that, I felt well somehow. My wounds still hurt like hell but I was content. The warmth of the fire was comforting. I even thought about going back into it.

Then something moved inside my cheek. Certainly an unpleasant experience but not as unpleasant as the realization that struck me like a thunderbolt: There is still one mark left ‘unopened’. The one on my face, right under the eye. I forgot about it for some reason. Fear returned and flooded my heart. Poisoned my mind. They were not done yet. How many more were there to come out? How much pain were they to bring?

I had little will to find out but I wouldn’t be able to kill them until they bitten their way out so I decided to help them. I grabbed my now-red-hot knife and I cut my cheek open.
I cut deep. Not even thinking about the pain. Hoping to get them out as quickly as possible. I felt them right under my skin but they weren’t quite out yet. I needed to help them some more if I wanted to kill them before they bite. I put my hand inside the fresh wound. The temperature of the knife made my skin stick together. That made it hard to reach further. I had to scribe the way with my nails.

Then something moved. Something was emerging out of the cut. I quickly grabbed and pulled it out of my body, the moment I was able to. The insect barely even moved. It didn’t bite. I’m not sure if it was even conscious.

I squished it and proceeded to get another one. Squished it. This one didn’t fight too. Then I got another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another.

I kept pulling those half-dead demons out and the salty tears only strengthened my determination. I reached deep. Very deep. And then I grabbed something different.

Something like a ball. Pulling it out hurt a lot more than the insects before did. Don’t get me wrong. Every single one hurt like hell but this one was like a deeper circle.

It was an egg. An open egg. A big, open egg. That’s why my face and legs were swollen after the bites. The eggs must’ve grown bigger inside, like some sort of plant. It seems that I was being used as a nest. And their first meal.

A loving mom wanted to ensure that her children wouldn’t starve their very first day. And speed up natural selection too. How adorable. I would’ve cried if I hadn’t been crying already. I’m not sure if she expected me to die but it certainly felt like she did. The egg was still moving. There must’ve been more inside so not thinking much, I threw it in the still-lit fire.

The air around me was incredibly hot and the high temperature surely didn’t help in stopping the bleeding process. I might’ve cut through a bunch of arteries. My heart was pounding hard because of the adrenaline and slowly pumped the blood out of my body as I was watching the last flames fade away. My legs completely refused to react. They were already dead. And I was soon to be too.

When the fire died out completely, it became dark. Incredibly dark. Scared that those devils are still around and will come back to finish what they began, I climbed back into my car and locked the doors. I was laying down in the darkness and only my slow, loud breaths disturbed the silence. The fatigue had finally taken over me. I was sleepy but I knew that if I were to fall asleep, there would be no hope to see the light again. Not that there was much anyway.

I think I heard some cars move nearby. Some even drove right next to me but I was too weak to react. The light from their headlights occasionally appeared to remind me that I’m still alive before darkness took over my sight again. Inside was colder. The fire warmth didn’t reach here, so the bleeding slowed down a little.

The sound of garage doors opening and closing overtook the unbearable silence for brief moments. I assume that it kept those little devils hiding but soon it was to be gone again and the nightmares would return.

Although I was dying, I was still conscious and not necessarily in the mood to be eaten alive. I decided to kill myself. A radical move I know, but I would have died anyway. Probably. And at least this way they wouldn’t have the satisfaction.

I put my knife to use and stabbed my chest with it a couple of times. It wasn’t long but I tried my best to reach as deep as I could with it. It wasn’t even painful. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. After that I couldn’t keep a grip to hold it anymore. The tool fell out of my hands. There was no way to get it back. I had to hope that I pierced the heart.

Preferably the aorta. I surely penetrated my lungs. I barely could breathe.

While I was suffocating and choking on my blood, the bugs got inside the cabin. I suppose, they went through the vents. One, two, five, ten. I stopped counting. I closed my eyes, hoping that it would speed things up. I was ready to run top speed toward the light.

The last thing I remember was the feeling. Lots of miniature larvae going back inside my wounds to bite me some more. But this time their bites were no longer painful. They were gentle. Almost like little kisses tucking me to sleep. So I slept.

I wonder if they had eaten my body in its entirety or if my skeleton is still laying in the backseat of my car in my favorite parking spot. Maybe they still use it as a nest; or they moved somewhere else. Maybe they are now during the metamorphosis process. I have no way of knowing. Not that it matters now.

It’s a shame that I didn’t survive. I can only imagine how people would react to my story. I would have probably ended up in some mental hospital. At least it would be something new. But maybe the events that I got through were ‘new’ enough. Maybe it’s enough for people to not call my life boring anymore. Or not.

But hey! At least I had some fun smashing them. They probably thought that I’ll go gently. Ha! They chose a wrong guy! I don’t know how many survived but they’ll remember the hell I gave them, forever. Sure, they might’ve got the price but they’ll remember me! They’ll remember me.

Maybe it’s good that no one will hear my story. They would have probably called me a coward for ending it myself. They wouldn’t understand. But you will. I’m sure of that. I only regret not killing the biggest one. The mother. I can’t wait for her to die. I can’t wait to meet her again. Look into her (I suppose it’s a she) eyes, again. But this time without fear. Without fear. I can’t wait.

So overall, dear diary, it was a fun morning. One of the best I had had for a while. I’m even kind of sad that it’s over. I might thank her for it when she finally succumbs and we will meet again. For now though, I have to get back to waiting. Also, I wanted to apologize. My last entries may have not been the happiest. At least this one is more entertaining. I hope you liked it too.

This might be my last entry ever, for obvious reasons, so I wanted to thank you for always listening to me. Thank you for keeping me alive all this time. I was never writing with the intent of reaching an ending. I never even wondered what my last entry would be. I wouldn’t have guessed that anyway. It is funny though, if you think about it. Anyway, I got to go. Hang in there, friend. And keep my secrets safe. Farewell.”

After reading it I called him immediately. I wanted to find some explanation for what I had just read. It seemed so strange and out of place among the classical, short descriptions of school days that the rest of the book was filled with. Like some sort of made up story. I know he was a big fan of creepypastas; he might still be. Maybe it’s just some kind of joke he made for me. But if that’s the case: Why can’t I remember it?

He didn’t answer. I called way more times than I imagined I would. No reply. I’m unsure what to think of it. It was so long since we last spoke. He might’ve just changed his phone number, for all I know. And maybe this entry was here always and I simply didn’t recall it for some reason; perhaps the pages glued together. I just want to put this to an end.

That’s why I’m writing this. To put this to an end. Get it out of my head. Maybe you’ll make some more out of it; I don’t care. But if you’re reading this, my old friend. If you’re reading this and remember me, then please call me. Call me so I can… just put this to rest. I’ve had way too many thoughts about it. I even got an idea that it’s you who wrote it; from behind the grave.

Do not worry! I’m not going to share your name with the world (your secrets are safe) but I believe you remember your story. So if you’re reading this, call me. My phone number is the same as it always was. I’m sure you still got it. We’ll explain this weird situation and maybe meet. Talk about the good old times. Perhaps you still got my old diaries. I’d like to read them. Maybe they helped you change too. I hope not too much though, because you were the best person that I have ever known.

So please, if you’re reading this: Call me.

Credit: Adrian Venit