A Letter From Inside the Story

Create a letter written by one of the characters in your story. The letter is not to be published as part. In this case, I’ll not tell you the story—but see if you are interested in it regardless.

To whomever finds this

I am writing this letter as an act of desperation. I have no will, I cannot think of any kind of line or note I left for anyone. There was always some time, I thought. Some time before this weekend. I came up here with my girlfriend. Her uncle’s cabin was a great idea, his buddies fun to be with. I am going to tuck this note away in my hip pocket in the hopes that his story will be found. I am currently hiding here in the crawlspace beneath the house, cabin, whatever. I can see the dark outside through some of the slots. I want to write this fast, so I can kill the flashlight and not attract any more attention.

I am torn. Do I tell you what happened? I don’t think these monsters that are after us clean up after themselves. I’m sure if you find me you will find that out. You will find my hide along with the rest of the rest of them.

Do I tell you what I wish? I know I am not a religious man. I could never relate to those neonazi groups that take up good television on Sunday mornings. But their message seems to have seduce many, many stupid people—and because of that, I know that when I die, it is okay. Losing so many of my friends in Iraq also confirmed that. So I am not afraid, totally, of being dead.

I am afraid of dying. The monsters surged at nightfall. They were smart, picking off many of us one by one. I cannot remember how we came across the first body. I thought it was even a joke, I laughed. And I know if anyone finds this note, I am truly sorry for that. I laughed because it was so far beyond normal, so horror movie-ish. They ate two people. And yes there were/are several. And they started at the throat and moved to where ever the soft flesh was, the places without bone. They saw the skin as nothing. The blood and stench did not frighten them.

Okay, I just graduated. Make sure that any money earned in this, like if someone sues someone or something, make sure my family is taken care of. Secondly, I have a series of sketches I made over the years—even after Ma told me to not be an artist—underneath the bed. I really think they are good and I was looking forward to using them as a spring board to take some extra classes in college. Do not destroy these. I thought I had everything. I thought this note would be my will. But as I lie here in the dirt, bugs in my hair, I realize I have a ton of stuff...but I have nothing to give to anyone.

If by luck I am found in pieces but alive, spare me the pain of being a burden to those I love.

The flashlight’s batteries are good. I can tell by the strength of the light. However, I hear heavy paws in the distance, probably up, upstairs, in the loft or on the second floor. I’m not sure how the beast got in there, but it means it’s above me and I cannot be found if I am to live through this.

I love you all.