The Story Of S ....
For the past few months, I've had the strangest feeling. Something has been following me, everywhere I go. All day, all night, the back of my neck's been prickling. An invisible beast floats behind me wherever I am, staring at me. Watching.
I stood in the center of the room. It was way past midnight. This room's walls did nothing to stop the cold air biting into my skin like a crazed rabbit. What were the walls made of, paper? The wooden table was littered with stacks of sheets and folders.
The Kira Case. One man in Japan killed tens of thousands of criminals world-wide without laying a finger on any of them.
How? Did he have some sort of supernatural being under his orders? No, even that would be unlikely. The sheer amount of criminals killed and the fact that Kira paid no attention to their location cast doubt upon that. It was as though he didn't care that he could kill one criminal in Japan, one in India, one in Australia, and one in Alaska simultaneously.
Maybe Kira was right. He believed that he was a god, so why couldn't he act like one? Surely it wouldn't be too hard for a god to cast judgment upon four people on four corners on the planet like Kira did.
My thoughts were halted by a sudden noise outside. My compound, the most secure in the world. Even a rogue bird can't get in without taking 10,000 volts to the heart. What business did a noise have in wanting to be heard in my compound, especially this late at night?
Hmm… I'd better check that out, I thought to myself. I dashed outside of the research room and outside the building. Like a snake.
I scanned the courtyard briefly. I noticed something outside on the ground. Something that shouldn't be there.
What is it… a notebook? It lay open halfway, face-down on the damp grass, as though it had been discarded there carelessly. Its spine was in the air, as black as the rest of the cover.
I stepped over to it, the wet grass dampening my socks. Damn it.
As I touched it, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Maybe external heating would be a good idea.
I opened it in my hands, returning to the heated depths of my compound. I flicked open the first page. It was black, with a messy white scrawl inked into it.
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.