The Tombstone

I still remember. I remember every part of it. It keeps flashing over and over 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 regular Wensday morning. There wasn’t any school. Thanksgiving break. My computer lagged slightly, but I ignored it. What a shame. After browsing the front page, I saw a game titled “ Biomed Death ”. The thumbnail was simply a video camera. I loved these types of mysterious games. No description. Just destiny. When I spawned, in front of me was a colorful abode. The wood planks it was built out of were faded, like the hut stood there for a long time. When I entered, you could see a vintage - styled living room, and a hollow , dark hall leading to a door.

The door was locked, but I was determined to somehow open it. 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 quite expect. The floor was covered with dirt, thick , dirt. My feet sank in, not being able to move. The tombstone was a silver, stone gray rock , with writing I had to squint to understand. “ 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 .”