A letter to Dr. Dawson---You may remember me, Jon, from an appointment before. You were a poor man who offered help to me. You promised me power if I followed a simple plan of yours. I agreed to it because all I thought of was domination and revenge. You caught me when I was at my weakest. How could you? Do you even remember what happened?
An extraordinary day came. It was my birthday. I just turned twenty-one and graduated from college. It was just raining cats and dogs a while ago, but it stopped for now. I was passing by my neighborhood wondering if anyone remembered. I always gave everyone else remarkable presents for their birthday. The present of their dreams they would say. It would be nice to receive something back although it went against my principles, giving is better than receiving, but let’s face the facts, everyone would like something in return once in a while.
So, as I progressed down the light filled streets I glanced above to see an iridescent rainbow. Daydreaming slowly, I drowned myself with ideas of presents I would like to receive. The rainbow may be a sign of a great day unraveling. Then there came a strange woman who passed by and asked me for money. She seemed poor and so I gave her some pity. I reached for my pocket and felt around for my wallet. After a few minutes of looking, I realized there was a child running away with it and the woman following. I was going to give her money anyway, but I guess she wanted more. Doesn’t everybody?
I continued walking and looked at a car passing by. The wheels of the car splashed mud on my face. I turned around to see my girlfriend laughing at me. I looked at her sternly and then looked up. I can’t handle humility very well. It provides a weakness I never liked. I went home that day earlier than I usually do, lying on my bed. I wondered how to get revenge on all the vicious people in the world who forgot my birthday and made it a horrible day. Never have I felt so much anger for humanity. It was for a stupid purpose too. Maybe everything built up and I finally drew the last straw.
I closed my eyes slowly and dozed off in my dreamland. I saw forests filled with animals looking at me. I was walking down the forest with my girlfriend by my side with a familiar rainbow above. The forest was never greener and nature never smelt better. The smell of chestnuts roasting over an open fire was most dominant. I came upon a cave and my girlfriend disappeared in the distance. I reached out my hand pleading her to grab it, but she just turned the other way and left me in isolation; seclusion. I walked cautiously into the murky and eerie cave. A stench overpowered my nose, the smell of the dump and skunks. An echo came out of the cave. At first I thought I was going crazy. I thought I was losing it. The echo grew louder and louder, clearer and clearer. The name Dr. Dawson repeated over and over again. I stopped dead in my tracks. Someone was breathing on me. I could feel the cold hands rubbing against my body. My heart pounded, louder and louder. I turned around and the thing shrieked just like a siren. My ears couldn’t handle it, I woke up screaming, yelling. Beep beep. Had I spent my birthday in some sort of dream gone mad? I shut off my alarm.
The day was grim and rained. The clouds were grey and made everything feel murky. I walked down my neighborhood once again. Hands in my pocket and daydreaming till something caught my eye. It was that same woman and child who stole my wallet. The mother seemed drunk since she was not capable of walking straight. She used my money…for drinks. How could anyone use their child to get drunk? Suddenly, a familiar smell came to mind. I smelt something and turned right next to me. It was a woman behind the window. She was patiently waiting, cooking chestnuts over an open fire. She stared blankly into my eyes and I glanced away quickly and caught attention of something else. It was an alleyway. I have never seen this alleyway before. Did it just get constructed? I went in slowly approaching the alleyway. It was narrow. It reeked from piles of garbage and had two red-brown walls to the left and right. Your office was a few steps down, and I went there. You were hanging by the door with beggar’s clothes on. Now I see why you were. Such a fool was I.
You came up to me with a mischievous face. I wanted nothing from you. I just continued passing by to the end of the alleyway. I felt something. It was that cold hand. The heart beat. Everything seemed to get darker. The cold blood. Shivers ran down my spine. I couldn’t move. I turned around and saw you. You claimed that you knew why. Why I came down the alleyway. You said that I wanted to follow my dream, and wanted to know where it led. Before I could get an answer in, you said that your name is Dr. Dawson. I was struck; my eyes were bulging out. Then you convinced me to stay with you and go alone with one of your sick jokes. And you can’t forget about that frightful look. The murderous stare. You said that there was something you could do for me, and I agreed. I wanted to let all of this anger go away, I just couldn’t think straight. You said that there was a shot I could take. Some type of medicine of your own creation to relieve all my anger. That’s all I wanted to do at the moment, all I wanted to do. I got the shot
I opened my eyes. I looked around to find myself in my room. Where was I? Last thing I remembered was that shot. I opened my door and then saw some strangers in my apartment. They all stood up. There was a man in some beggar’s clothes. Is this a trend or something? Then I looked across the room, it was my girlfriend’s parents, her mom was weeping while her dad just stared at me. They looked like bombs about to detonate. My girlfriend’s parents and the beggar stood up and they showed me a picture. I was stunned, shocked, and mortified. My girlfriend dead and beheaded and that woman gone as well with her body split into separate pieces. Did I do this? At first I thought they were lying. I must have been framed, but something happened. They showed me another picture. It was written in my blood saying, “Jon—Happy Birthday.”
I must have done it. This jerk did something to me. That’s all I thought. Then my mind shifted. It wasn’t him. It was me. I did it. I killed them. How could I black out such a dreadful moment? Did this medicine do something? Now here I am, writing my last letter to you and anyone else who reads this. I can’t live with myself because I did such a cruel thing. If the people I killed couldn’t have a happy ending then neither can I. On the table, there was a gun. Man’s most horrendous weapon. I have it in my hand. I bid the world my last goodbye.
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