My Name is Franklin, Pt. 6

It stayed that way for days. I left it upstairs in the spare room and just went on with my life until the following September. My wife had taken my daughter to see her family in the states and I had stayed behind to finish up some work and was to catch up with them afterwards. I was working at my desk late at night. I was working on a new data method for the company i was with at the time, when I needed to get a book from my room.

As I climbed the stairs, it was like something was calling out to me, faint, oh so very faint but it was there, deep in the back of my head, constantly calling out for me over and over again. Writing this I can almost hear it again. As I reached the top of the stairs and turned to go to my room I found myself in the spare room, in front of the chest. As I turned to leave, i once again found myself in front of the chest. I tried for what felt like hours to escape that room, panicking and falling apart as I did. A great feeling of helplessness washing over me before finally succumbing to that persistent voice and opened the trunk.

It wasn’t so bad at first. The papers caught and held my attention for a while. At the time they were incoherent files and papers about seemingly nothing at all. I closed the trunk and grabbed the book I needed and went back to work. After a couple hours I think I fell asleep at the desk and awoke to find myself yet again in the spare room. I was obviously disturbed by this, I was at this point petrified. I stared at the chest with images of Jay running through my head. I remembered how he looked, how he acted and cursed myself for bring this thing into my house. I tried time and time again to get away from it but in the end became so enraged I heaved it against a wall. It broke open, spilling most of its contents across the floor. I turned to leave before stepping on a single sheet of paper that, in scribbled, huge text surrounded by what I presume was blood, “HE COMES”.