The Story of my Murder

I shall endeavor in telling you about my gruesome death (which is one you wouldn’t want to simulate) that occurred on May 20, 1814.

It was night, dark, cold, peaceful, and quiet. The only sound to be heard is the calming sound of the wind passing through trees. I was clad in blankets, lying in my bed, half-asleep. I had a feeling, a feeling the something was wrong; that something, or someone, was lurking in the darkness of my house, although my eyes failed to see what or who it may be.

I eventually succumbed into the tugging feeling and gingerly sat up in my bed; my eyes wide open, fully alert, the tugging feeling, still tugging, but no sounds were heard. I surmised that it was just my imagination and reluctantly tried to go back to sleep, but I never got the chance…

As soon as my head hit the soft pillow, a piercing bright light was shown and someone sprang out of the darkness and wrestled me to the ground, turning my own bed over, onto me; this must be the work of a mad man. I had abrasions on my arms, legs and face from fighting. The idea that I was going to die was corroborated by the lack of oxygen I was receiving. I grimaced with each second gone by. My suffocation was done in a cursory manner and my life flashed before my eyes and it was quickly, over….

Next thing I knew, I was being deposited carefully underneath the floorboards in my own house. After that, I never heard the sound of the wind passing through the trees ever again.

Of course, the story of my murder must electrify you, but it is unfortunately true.