The Tombstone

I still remember. I remember every part of it. It keeps repeatedly flashing in my head, and it won’t stop. A splitting headache occurs every time I try to think logically about it. Why did it choose me? Why did I have to go?

It was a typical Wednesday morning. There wasn’t any school since it was Thanksgiving break. My computer lagged slightly, but I ignored it what a shame. After browsing through the front page, I spotted a game titled “Biomed Death” The thumbnail was simply a videotape camera. I adored these types of mysterious games. No description. Just destiny. When I spawned, in front of me was a colorful abode. The wood planks look like it was built out of faded materials, as the hut stood there for a long time. When I entered, I saw a vintage-styled living room and a dark, hollow hall leading to a door.

The door was locked, but I was determined to open it somehow. Again, what a miserable shame. The key didn’t take a while to find. It sat on the fireplace, silently waiting for me to scoop it up. A couple of tries later, I picked the door open and saw what I didn’t expect. The floor was covered with dirt, thick dirt. My feet sank in, not being able to move. The tombstone was a silver-gray rock with writing. I kept squinting to understand what it said. “My beloved, of who I couldn’t resist but stealing from. If I can’t have him, no one can. No one. Now his blood will soak into the soil, and I will chant his name.”