I found a dusty old book in my basement etched with unreadable markings. Jagged, sharp, and terse these markings looked like they were scratched into the book’s black leather cover by a heavy claw or talon. The ever hungry reader in me wanted to check this book out, but some inner part of me says to destroy this tome but eventually my curiosity got the best of me. I sat down earlier tonight and started reading it, I took a break to start writing what you’re reading right now. I’ve been reading this book for what seems like ever, it’s just going on and on. Chapter after chapter setting the stage, introducing all of the characters, and getting the ball rolling on the inevitable climax and aftermath.
I was only three or four chapters in but I could tell something seemed off about this book, it was as if I lived the events of the story and was currently reading into my own future or possible future, kind of unnerving to be honest. I mean at only three or four chapters in it only covers from 1990 until 93-94 but this is like a narrative on my life written by some outsider who was keeping detailed records on me.
I decided to skip ahead at random, each year was pretty accurate to how I lived it. There weren’t any discrepancies until I came to 31 December 2013, the book details my death under unknown circumstances which had the potential to turn into an unsolved mystery. The reason being is that I was found mutilated and ravaged, as if some kind of beast had attacked me. According to the final paragraph if I didn’t die, then I should immediately follow the instructions found in the last six chapters of the book. I flipped the page over to the opening paragraph of that last chapter.
The first chapter dealt with explaining what wrote the book and