A BLOODY KILLER!

 

I was browsing through the shelves of a quaint little bookstore in the heart of the city when I stumbled upon a novel that caught my eye. It was a thriller, and I couldn't resist picking it up.

 

I took it home, settling into my favourite armchair, and began to read. As I delved deeper into the story, I started to feel a sense of unease. The more I read, the more it seemed like the story was my very own.

 

It was as if the author had somehow managed to pluck the details of my life and weave them into the pages of the book. Every character, every location, every detail - it was all so familiar.

 

But then, as I turned the page, I came across a chilling revelation. According to the book, there was a killer looming, someone who was planning to strike soon. And the target was none other than me.

 

I sat there, stunned, as the realization sunk in. Could this be true? Was there really someone out there planning to kill me? And if so, how did the author know?

 

I tried to shake it off, to convince myself that it was just a coincidence. But as the days passed, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, waiting for the right moment to strike.

 

I started to notice things - strange footsteps outside my house, a shadowy figure lurking in the alleyway outside my office. It was all too much to bear.

 

As the days turned into weeks, my paranoia grew. I could no longer distinguish between reality and the book. Was I living in a novel? Or was the novel my life?

 

And then, one night, as I lay in bed, I heard a sound. It was a low, rasping breath, like someone standing right beside me. I turned on the light, but there was no one there.

 

That's when I saw it - the book, lying on my nightstand, with a note tucked inside. It read: "You should have taken the warning seriously. Now it's too late."

 

I looked up, and there, standing in the shadows, was the killer. He was holding a knife, his eyes fixed on me. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

 

In that moment, I knew that everything in the book was true. The killer was real, and he had come for me. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.