The Journal

Scary story involving a journal, a demon and a person's entries before and after she is chased by the demon.

The nightmare began when I woke up. I know I heard the sound of glass breaking. And I know I heard screams from coming from my parents and little sister’s bedrooms. I know that, that demon dragged their bodies into my room. I know they’re dead. And I know I’m next. I’ve known I would be the demon’s next victim ever since I found the journal. I’ve had this ever present paralyzing fear follow me like a shadow and consuming me ever since I started reading that old journal I found under the floorboards. The journal contained stories, the same story, different people, from all over the world. They all speak of a creature of evil. A creature from the darkest corners of hell. Seeking nothing more but chaos, misery and death. I don’t know why but the journal soon became an addiction. I would spend hours reading it even though what I read terrified me. The stories told of each victims experience. Their curiosity, their fear, Their addiction. They would become obsessed with the journal. Just as I have. They would know that if they kept reading, it would come for them. Just as I knew. And once it did, with their last strengths, they would write they same story once more. And the cycle would begin again. I’m under my covers, writing this, knowing my fate to be the same as those before me. I know it is waiting for me. But I won’t finish this. Because I will not take the journal while it chases me. You will not know of how the creature decided to murder me. Because I will not write about it. I’ve made my decision. It’s 5:57. It seems appropriate that I should wait till dawn. Maybe the sunrise will protect me. But I’m afraid if I wait any longer, it will come for me. And I’m not going down without a fight. If it wants me dead, then let the chase begin…

I’m not sure exactly what time it is. Nor where I am. I know I said I wouldn’t write about my death. And I don’t know why I am. I do not want to. But I have too. I left the journal under my pillow before I started running. Yet, somehow, it was right there, in my back pocket. I have a feeling something much worse will come for me if I don’t complete the cycle, so that it may begin again. So this is my story, my addition to this wretched journal, the curse I help cast upon you, I’m sorry, I am really truly sorry, please forgive me:

I pulled back the covers and I ran faster than I ever have in my entire life. I felt it chase me through the hallways. I barely make it half way down the stairs when it’s claws dug into my right calf. I don’t know how but I managed get away and keep running. I was out of the house. But it was gaining on me. Inch by Inch. I couldn’t keep running much longer. Daylight was only a few minutes away. I had to keep running. Just a few more minutes. I tripped over a kid’s skateboard. I managed to get back on my feet. But it had already caught up. It’s razor sharp claws raked down my back. I’m on the floor. The first rays of sunlight shine through the sky. I know it wont be long before I die. The creature kept tearing at me. But when the faint sunlight hit it’s body it shuddered and hesitated before disappearing into the woods on my right. I should’ve been smarter. I should’ve burnt the journal when I had the chance. With all the strength I have left I’ve pulled myself up to a sitting position against a telephone pole. And now I’m writing this.

I am truly sorry for anyone who finds this journal. By the time you’ve read this, you’ll have probably realized what happens next. I just hope, that you are stronger and smarter than I am, that you may outsmart this demon, that you might live to tell this tale, that you break the cycle, and do what I and the one’s before me should have done, Destroy this journal. The colors the sun paints across the sky at sunrise are magnificent… I’m glad this’ll be the last thing I see. Something colorful and full of beauty… And with this I say Goodbye, Good luck, and may God have mercy on your soul…