Hunted

I never intended for it to come to this. I never wanted anybody to be hurt. Just myself. Now it seems I am the one who is unscathed by this... God, I don't even know. It all started one day at school. You see, I'm currently in high school and I have a friend who committed suicide last month. He was the only friend I really had; after his suicide it felt like my world was caving in around me. His parents sent me a box with a few things of his, and told me he wanted me to take care of the box, and that for some reason he asked them not to look in there. I was skeptical towards his reasoning, especially considering him and his parents were pretty close.
I was still rather upset about his death at that time so I didn't even want to look at the box. I put it in my closet on a high shelf where I knew my pets or little brother couldn't get at it.
Two days later his funeral was held. I of course attended the funeral, and when I approached the coffin (it was an open casket) to pay my respects I noticed his eyes were still open, betraying a fixed stare of abject fear, panic. I figured it must have been from the adrenaline rush he received as he slowly choked to death (he hung himself). All throughout the service I could still see his haunting eyes looking up at me, burning into me. I felt rather nauseous after a few minutes and excused myself to the restroom. After puking my guts out I decided to splash some water on my face. To my surprise, when I raised my head from the basin I found my friend, alive and in the bathroom there with me. I was a complete stuttering mess - half of me trying to talk to him and the other half thinking I was going insane. He did not say much, simply muttering:
"Do not open my book. Trust me. My death was no suicide."
Then in a blink of an eye he was gone again, vanishing as seamlessly and silently as he had appeared. Maybe he wasn't there in the first place, I reasoned. Maybe I was just so grief stricken that I hallucinated the whole ordeal to gain some sort of artificial closure. I remained confident in this theory until I returned home and decided to look in his box. Surely enough, there was a book at the bottom of the box, titled simply "Mors venit curiosus". This scared the living hell out of me so I decided it best to simply leave the book be.
After that, life decided to basically shit on me. I found out I failed 2 of my classes and would have to retake those classes to graduate next year, and people started take notice of my loner-like tendencies.
And promptly tore me to shreds over it.
My world was complicated enough as it was, but it turned out that my dog, Puffles, had heart worms. It took a few weeks but eventually she was gone as well. It was then, while looking at Matt's box, that I suddenly thought back to what he had told me. That if I opened the book I might die. I had no will to live at that point, but I couldn't commit suicide as that option would break my mother's heart. I figured maybe I would be different than Matt and I would die in a way that did not outwardly project a message of suicide. With a trembling hand I grabbed the book from the box and opened it. At first, nothing happened. Then all of a sudden the text on the pages started to glow. I could not decipher the words on the page in front of me as they were written in a different language - it looked like Latin or Spanish to me. I was suddenly filled with this massive sense of fear, mounting on me and growing exponentially. I quickly closed the book and decided to find a less demonic way of offing myself.
Little did I know, I was already too late.
In my dreams, a shadowy figure appeared in a haze. I tried approaching the figure and when I finally came close to it I began being able to make some of its features. It looked to be alive and male, whatever it was. It was purely black, tall, had long claws that looked more like fingernails that had never been clipped for decades. His eyes also seemed to have bright red pupils that glowed bright against his black frame. He also had a very long sword that he was carrying on his back. The sight of the sword set me back a bit, especially when I saw that is was covered in dried blood-stains. Whose blood? Matt's? Puffles'?
"Hello Tyler," the entity said. "I have been expecting you, though I must admit you took your time opening the book. You may address me as Malgroman". This was the last straw. I didn't know how I was going to do it but I wanted out. I tried to wake myself up, but I couldn't for the life of me do it. I was trapped. "What is the matter child? Do you fear the reaper?" I heard the thing's voice echo behind me. His voice was a chilling hiss that made my blood run cold. The entity continued to speak, forcing me somehow to listen. "You know this sword is just to deliver the rightful end to the souls ready to leave your world. You may be guessing that I am about to say that I use a scythe or sickle to reap the spirits of the dead, but in truth it is much easier. Once the physical body is disabled or 'killed' the souls simply float into the great beyond and into a specialized containment unit. Then they go to judgment for the afterlife."
It was now my turn to speak. "Why are you even telling me this? What purpose do you have for this?"
"Oh, it is quite simple really. Come, now. You won't have long to spread the word".
With that I woke up in my bed in a cold sweat. To my panic, I was late for school! Great, as if I didn't have enough shit to deal with. Now I have to worry about getting to school in 5 minutes, when I'm a good 10 miles away.
"Need a lift?" hissed an all too familiar voice.
"Hop on. When Malgroman makes an offer, he offers it once and that's it." chimed his assistant. I passed up his offer but I blacked out anyway and woke up in front of my school. I was so creeped out that that... Demon or whatever he was could actually manifest itself in the material world. Is this what Matt went through? All throughout the school day I felt waves of panic followed by a lasting feeling of depression. In 7th period I was called down to my counselor's office. She informed me that my house had burned down and that all of my family was killed, and most of my possessions were burned beyond recovery. I thought of Matt's box and felt ashamed that I let it burn when his one dying wish was that I took care of it. She then informed me that there was one item recovered from the fire. She said the police department dropped it off at the school so I could see it before they took it in as evidence. On my counselor's desk lay that disgusting, repulsive, familiar book.
That fucking book!
I instantly knew that Malgroman was behind this, and at that moment, I gave in. I no longer cared. I wanted to commit suicide before this whole ordeal began, but now it fees like I'm already dead. Yesterday I skipped school, and later discovering that it went up in a fireball. I knew it was Malgroman. About 200 students and faculty were killed in that explosion and still I found it difficult to care.
I am being hunted as prey, and the moment Malgroman catches up to me is the moment I look forward to.
Come to me Mr. Reaper.
Release me from the Hell you have created.
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Dreams
Category:Demins and Debbils
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Old Shit