Haunted by the Past
Can I trust you? I mean, really trust you? Trust you to end my life if I asked you to? Trust you, a person I hardly know? Trust you like I would trust my siblings? Are you still there? Are you still reading after all of these questions? God, I don't know why I'm even doing this. Why I'm even thinking of telling you, a total stranger, my story, I don't have the tiniest idea. Maybe it's because my parents don't believe me. Maybe it's because my friends all think I lost it. Maybe I HAVE lost it. Well… if you're still there, here's my story.
Lately I've been having dreams. They are not any ordinary dreams though. They are really memories. They are mine yet they are not mine. They belong to a person named John Walker. The thing is he is one of my past lives just waiting for the memories to surface. You see, he died a violent death. Here is what I can remember.
Everyone thought John Walker led as normal a life as possible. But ever since John turned twenty one, people have disappeared in the woods once a year, and John started to wear nothing but plain blue shirts. Every time someone has disappeared, people have found blue thread where they were last seen. Before I say more, let me tell you what John looked like. He had dirty blonde hair with blue eyes. He was near-sighted so he had wire-rimmed glasses to help with it. He stood six foot two and weighed one hundred sixty pounds. When he invited his neighbors over for dinner, they were served what John said was fresh pork. Everyone that knew John knows that he never had pigs, so they always declined the invitations. Twenty or so years after the first disappearance, someone finally put the pieces of the puzzle together. What they found out was that little, innocent John Walker was not so innocent. He was, and still is, a cannibal. When word got around, everyone got together and went to give John his just punishment. When the crowd reached John's house, they found him hung from the cedar tree in his front yard with his glasses hanging down over his missing lower jaw. Little Cannibal John was dead before anyone realized it. No one knew what had killed him, neither did they want to.
This I remember. This I KNOW. I know because I am slowly becoming John. By the time you read this, I might be consumed entirely by His memory. I might even be behind you this very second, about to kill you and feast on your flesh. All this might be happening while you're reading this. But I neglected to mention one thing. If john likes you and you happen to be the one he is hunting, he will give you a quick and painless death. If he hates you, it will be a very slow, excruciatingly painful death…