The Friday

My name is Greg. What you see in front of you is an evil magic, so if you don’t have nerves, do not read. It happened four years ago. I will never forget that wonderful Friday afternoon. The sun was high in the ocean blue sky, casting rays of hot summer sun on my tan skin. There were no clouds and the sun made the air warm and a little damp. It was just like a dream, unfortunately the beautiful dream later on turned into a nightmare. That Friday changed my entire life. I have just returned from another dangerous mission. It was week before it all happened. I had that strange feeling that something bad is about to happen. Then weird things started happening. I should have known better.

First my dog disappeared mysteriously into thin air. Then my girlfriend had an accident on her way to my house. She was hit by a bus, and died instantly. There wasn’t much left of her. The only thing left of her was a big pool of blood on the street. But that was nothing, the worse thing happened to my friend. He forgot to turn of the gas in his stove and he had a cigarette. That is how my friend he blew up himself. The last time I saw him was when he opened his front door, burning, saying something that I couldn’t understand. It was some sort of ancient language, used thousands of years ago. The doctors did everything what possible to save him, but there wasn’t much hope for him.

Nevertheless I haven’t put off my plans. On the Friday morning I packed everything, all my photographic equipment, a big hunter’s knife, my laptop, which was wirelessly connected to the secret international network. Don’t ask me how I got the access. I’m a computer hacker, and we know how to do that. I also took my gun, which I don’t take unless there is a reason, and of course there was one. Half of my fiends were dead, and no one knows if those were accidents or murders. I was told have my eyes wide opened. I was going to take some pictures of an old town. A long time ago forgotten by everyone. The town didn’t have even a name, and it was really old. I have once heard that there was evil buried under the houses of that town. I never believed in these stories, but I know now that I was wrong.

Once I had everything in my jeep packed I gave my friend a call that I won’t be home until Monday, so he wouldn’t waste his time on coming to my house. We sometimes liked to have a beer or two in front of my flat TV, and talk about old days. We have known each other since we were little brats, and what is sad is that he was the one who did not make it. His name was Jon. He was a pretty tall and big guy. Someday I avenge his death.
I pressed on the gas pedal and whit a squeal of tires I departed. TO BE CONTINUED …