Letters - An Original Creepypasta

Edmond woke up in a sharp howl. The pain he came all too familiar with had him grasping his stomach with such intensity he added to his already bruised ribs. His lips cracked from the anticipation of a morning cup of water. All he can think of is the excuses that he can tell his parents this time. He reached into his bedside table for his dollar store notebook labeled “Journal” and flipped past the bullshitted stories to his list of excuses. His mapped out sketch of his body proves useful. He finds his hand written cliff notes on “ribs and upper torso” and studies his breakfast story. Teary eyed and in huge desire for an exit from his treacherous life, he reminds himself there is no escape.

Luckily, Edmond wasn’t born with a lack of intelligence. At the age of 9 he was reading at an 8th grade level and was encouraged to jump a grade. When he was 10 he won a junior creative writing award and was given a trophy from the prime minister himself. It’s not surprizing that he was the star child of every class. His high need of expanding his mind made it hard for him to find friends. He remained loyal to his best and only friend Anthony. Ironically, Anthony was always one of a lower IQ. While being in the same class, the combination of Edmond skipping a grade and Anthony be held back one, meant they were two years apart in age. They spent every day and night together playing Anthony’s dad’s old Nintendo system he bought when his was a kid.

Unfortunately, Anthony was only a burning memory for Edmond. Anthony was discovered at 3 AM covered in his own vomit next to an empty bottle of Oxycodone. His dad carried the corpse of his 13-year-old son 4 blocks to the hospital only to be greeted with handcuffs and a soiled name as a parent. He was given a life sentence for a combination of convictions including the murder of his son and drug trafficking. The neighbourhood junkies that were eagerly awaiting the departure and unlocked door of their reliable dealer tore Anthony’s house to bits. There were too many narcotics for them to take everything and what was left was enough to keep Anthony’s dad locked up for years. His dad kept a tight operation. Nothing was left outside of a series of safes and only he knew the combinations. Edmond couldn’t understand how they were opened or why Anthony would do something as reckless as to down a bottle of unlabelled pills. As Edmond always put it, Anthony wasn’t intelligent but he wasn’t stupid. It was a week later that he found the first written letter sitting on his dresser.

He was kept under strict lock down after the death of his only friend. The only time he had the house to himself was when his parent’s were at couple’s counselling. He didn’t understand any of it. It was as if he was being punished for the death of a friend. His computer was set up to record the screen so his parents could see anything and everything he did. When the clock his 9:00, he had to be in his room and wasn’t to come out for anything. They never seemed happy anymore. He always found them quite protective but this was getting out of hand. He took advantage of his alone time to read the letters that appeared nightly. The envelope said “HELLO” in all capital letters. The messages that were inside were vague. Just things like “See you tonight” and “Looking forward to hanging out.” He assumed that it must be his mom. It was similar to her handwriting. He couldn’t be bothered to ask her due to his current rage towards his parents. He continued to collect them for a while and took some comfort in the fact that his mom was reaching out.

The letters kept coming and Edmond couldn’t believe it was still continuing. After a month he was getting frustrated that his mom couldn’t just take the time to tell him that she loves him. The idea was becoming rather insulting. He went to confront her one-day but was deterred when she wouldn’t even reply when asking how she was. Why was she so comfortable with writing these letters but not speaking to him in person? He got sick of it and began collecting them in a trashcan that he set aside to burn in the fireplace during one of his moments of solitude. After a couple weeks the letters stopped. He awaited punishment assuming that his mom must have discovered some un-burnt remains but none came. A whole week passed and still no letters were appearing. “She must have just given up” he thought.

Another week passed and Edmond began feeling sore when awaking. It was all he could do to get out of bed for school each morning. He thought that maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep. The stress of his parent’s attitudes was keeping him up at night. He started going to bed earlier and earlier. It hit a point where he was in bed and fast asleep by 7:30. He noticed bruising on his chest. As if someone had socked him while he was sleeping. It must have been from rolling off the bed at night. He was a heavy sleeper and constantly rolled. Each night different bruises would appear.

They began to grasp the attention of his teacher and she insisted on speaking to his parents. A meeting was held with the school’s support worker. Edmond waited on the wooden chairs that looked to have been constructed by a grade-3 shop class. The same kids must have constructed the support worker’s door because it was anything but soundproof. Two ideas were tossed into the air. Either he was being abused by his parents or was causing harm to himself. A glaze of sweat appeared over his forehead. The situation was bad. Knowing that the subject of his recently dead friend was soon to be added to the mix, he knew he had to think of something fast. 5 minutes passed and the ragged door swung open. The tears that poured down his mother’s face were no match for the enraged sweat that dripped from his father’s nose. Edmond was smart and quick. He knew that his lies couldn’t possibly be caught. He never lied to his parents before and his signs of anxiety couldn’t be caused from a bluff because he was already rattled from the situation. He felt like a lawyer with the way his lips blurted out such bullshit. He told them he had been sneaking out at night to go the creek. It was Anthony’s favourite fishing spot and he wanted to feel his presence again. The adults froze and starred at him in great extent. He claimed that a couple nights ago he slipped on some unsettled ground and tumbled down a hill. The name drop of Anthony was enough to make the meeting come to a stop. It was a quiet ride home but his foresight of what was to come was screaming into his ears.

A lock was installed on the outside of the bedroom door. It was a harsh reality. He began to wish that the parental abuse story flew so that he could move out of this awful household. The computer was gone and all that was left to do was to read. His scrambled mind declined the book’s invitation so he spent his time starring at the ceiling. He never experience migraines before. It is an uncommon thing for an 11-year-old to have to deal with. The Advil went down as if it was an addiction. He couldn’t sleep well at night. Weird dreams became a nightly fiasco. The same dream happened over and over of him lying in bed starring into the corner as if something is there. He’s sure he hears a voice but it’s dim and too high pitch to understand. Just before he wakes up an extremely dim sight of red eyes appear. The dream leaves him gasping for air. That’s when the pain begins. More bruises and muscle aches come and go. Dehydration kicks in. He wishes he could sneak downstairs for a cup of water but the locked door denies his thirst. He’s not allowed dishes in his room. Too many times he’s neglected to carry his dirty glasses downstairs and his mom is sick of grabbing them. Once he’s settled he doesn’t sleep again. He stairs at the corner praying to the god he doesn’t even believe in to never reveal those haunting eyes. He waits for the 6:00 sun to relieve him of his fears of the dark and is finally able to catch an hour of sleep. When he awakes, he’s sure to scan his self-made manual of injuries to find today’s excuse. The cool fall air grants him the permission to wear long sleeve shirts and sweaters making hiding his bruises easier.

The dreams continued, as did the injuries. It got to the point where he was having difficulty breathing for fear of his nightmares. He wished that sleep was unavoidable but no matter what he did it seemed that he would pass out. He decided that he would need to find a way to stay awake. He tore a page from his journal and wrote up a list. He thought extremely hard about what he could use. He recalled having Anthony’s iPod in his backpack. He asked him to hold onto it so he didn’t lose it while hiking. Anthony was always a metal head and had the most annoying loud music. No way could he sleep through that. He also raided the candy store. He had a $10 bill from his birthday 3 months ago. He’d been hiding it since his parents took all his other money. He had $3 left and knew his other best option would be caffeine. The careless store clerk thought nothing of it when he slapped an energy drink on the counter. Anthony always got playboys from him so Edmond wasn’t too worried. He had his list checked off and he was set for one night anyway. At least it was one night without injury or fear.

It hit 9:00, which meant lights out. The iPod provided enough light to give him some comfort. At least as long as the battery would hold up. His plan was when it got to 10% he’d crack open his caffeinated beverage. He made sure all of his candy was hard and sour to make it last as long as possible. One Warhead an hour should do it. The music started and gave an awful howl of intense vocals and distorted guitar. He was far from enjoying himself but that wasn’t the point. His heart hate increased a bit for every percentage that the battery dropped. Every time it did, he would whisper the number. 80, 78, 75, 70. It was only midnight and the battery was red. Only 10 more percentage drops before he had to get into the heavy stuff. 20, 18, 15. His heart was pounding by this point. 14, 13, 12, 11. It finally hit 10%. He grabbed his beverage and cracked the top just as the music cut out and the light disappeared. He removed the headphones and sat starring at the corner he feared.

2:00 hit. His beverage was nearly empty. He hadn’t blinked in over 5 minutes. His eye’s were so dry that he was unsure if he’d be able to. His body gave in and his eyes slapped shut for a second. The split second was enough to help his nightmares emerge. Sitting in the corner was the red eyes he feared all along. No. It was impossible. How could he have fallen asleep? He pinched his cheek. His drink still had a final sip. He was wide-awake. He couldn’t move. His body put itself into a sort of self-induced paralysation. The red eyes seemed to slowly grow brighter. Edmond pushed himself to mumble the only word he could muster. “Who?” The eye’s responded in the high pitched whisper he knew to well. “Why did you burn my letters?” Edmond couldn’t respond. He never had thoughts of homicide towards anything but all he could think about was how much he wished he had a loaded gun to blow this nightmare into a pool of it’s own cardiovascular system. The eyes got closer. It raised it’s voice “I said why the fuck did you burn my letters?” Edmond finally mustered “I’m sorry, I thought you were my mom.” The eyes jiggled and bounced as this thing laughed. “You really think that bitch would take the time to write you a letter?” So much confusion came over him. What is this thing? Why is it here? All things that he wanted to say but couldn’t muster. His thoughts distracted him from the fact this thing was getting closer. By that time it was at the end of his bed. Thing. That was a good name for it. The soft moonlight allowed Edmond to put a face to these horrible eyes. It was human in its own way. At least it carried out the characteristics of one. Its skin was cracked and red. No hair was present on its body and its nose and ears were just holes. It was as if he was an inside out human. It spoke again. “You fear me?” Edmond wasn’t discouraged from nodding his head to agree. The thing smiled. “You think I’m a monster but I was as human as you.” Everything it touched left a thin film of blood. Edmond’s mattress pooled with it. “I’m not a monster but they are real.” Clarity seemed like something inexistent at this point. “You could even say they are here with us right now. You could even they were once my parents.” Edmond wasn’t even positive if he had a pulse anymore. Was this thing suggesting that my parents were once his? Things began to connect. He recalled reading about a disease online that would explain this “man’s” look. He was once obsessed with the idea of it. Edmond’s face dimmed when he realized that this thing was actually his sibling. The stranger grinned and said “Now you understand don’t you brother? Those fucking psychopath’s you call parents weren’t to keen on having a freak child. When they discovered what I would be when I was born they wanted to do everything they could to get rid of me. It was to late to be aborted so they had to improvise. You were so young. Just a baby. I pickled in our mother’s uterus waiting for my chance to meet my big brother. I knew we would grow up together and you would protect me. These thoughts ended as I was pulled fiercely from my utero home with a rigged coat hanger. It only took mom a 26er to be ready for such a painful experience. Dad was completely sober. He couldn’t wait to toss me into a garbage bag and stick me at the side of the road.” This was insane. How could all of this possibly be true? Edmond spoke up “If you are my brother, than why have you been causing me harm?” His brother laughed again. “You think I’ve been giving you those bruises? Look at your arms!” Edmond looked down. His face went pale. How couldn’t he have noticed this before? His arms and legs were strapped down the same way they used to restrain the mentally insane in the early 1900s. His parents must have been sneaking into his room every night to restrain him. So many things started to make sense. He popped open his bottle of Advil. Upon closer inspection he noticed that they weren’t normal. The dosage was scraped off of each pill. “These are sleeping pills.” Edmond became extremely uncomfortable. “You see? I’m really not the monster. I’ve been looking out for you since I died. They believe society is dangerous and you are too precious to them to be harmed. You are a brilliant mind. They never liked that you were starting to hang out with that friend of yours. The found him to be a threat to your development. That’s why they decided to take care of it.” He thought about it. Anthony was never allowed to hang out at his place. Edmond was always forced to go to his. He went over so often that Anthony’s father willing gave him a key. He never kept his drug dealing business a secret to the kids. He treated Edmond like a son for as long as he’s known him. A week before Anthony’s death he was forced to tell his parents the truth about Anthony’s dad’s business. He never lied before. Edmond’s dad clearly wasn’t too afraid to murder a child. “It was dad. He unlocked the safes. I still don’t understand why Anthony would eat all those pills.” His brother spoke up. “He was force-fed. When they broke in mom took the liberty of stealing Anthony’s dad’s 9mm and had him eat them at gunpoint. She watched and made sure everything stayed down as he slowly choked on his own vomit. Once his dad came back and saw his son dying on the floor he immediately ran to the hospital. Mom and Dad spread the word to whatever sketchy people they could find in a 1 km radius that there was free drugs at the house.”

Edmond was furious. He never before felt like he did now. His brother didn’t say another word. He undid Edmond’s restraints and stepped back into the shadows. The door was mysteriously unlocked. It was like he didn’t have any sort of control over his actions. He grabbed a chair and forced it under his parent’s door handle. He walked downstairs and grabbed the gasoline from the garage and began pouring it on the living room floor. He went to grab a lighter from the top drawer but it was locked. A familiar letter was sitting on the counter. The cover was just like the others. He slowly picked it up and unsealed his final letter. Inside was another message. He read it out loud. “Edmond, I’m extremely sorry about everything that has been happening. Anthony was a good friend of yours and I’ve always respected what he’s done for you. You can talk to me anytime.” Anthony dropped the letter and looked up to see what he was informed to be his brother with a lit zippo and a fearful smile on his face. Edmond read the final words. “Love, Mom.”