Writing a character's life in a story is normal but being the of the story of own written character's life is unique.
You know what, I can be the part of the character's life which were written by me. But there is a twist. I useally enter their life to end my story and their life too. I have a special ability to know their life stories just by a sight of them.
Example:
A few days ago, I met a person named Nilanjan on the train.
Mr. Nilanjan Das, short heighted, senior citizen who has many issues in his life . He has a son who lives I Kuwait. He doesn't take care of his parents and that's why the life of Nilanjan Das and his wife is depended on his pension. In the spite of all this the person is sociable and cheerful.
But he had a bad habit which is laughing loudly. You know what for this habit no one litirealy no one can recognise his life issues. But I can. So decided to give this man and his wife some relief from this awful life.
Two days later I got a newspaper with an article based on my own story named " Unhealthy laughter". Which I wrote at that night after meeting with this person.
The article was about a couple's death, who were suddenly died by heart attack.
According to CCTV footage of the apartment, the man was laughing loudly while eating and that's the reason of the sudden heart attack and by watching her husband in this situation the old woman also got an attack at the same time.
Cops said: "this incident is unusual and too much shocking for us. How can they got heart attacks at the same time for a wired reason!
This is the 12th wider case we have marked. The investigation is going on, and can't say anything before the postmortem report come"
That's unfair. This news channel stolen my story for 12th time.
Whatever...
I know what's going on in your mind right now.
Am I crazy? How are these possible? But, how, the reason....Etc....
Then let me clear the matter. I can be the death of anyone's life just by a one stroke of my pen.
Few months ago, I got this pen from a black magician. It's nib is made by mixture of five different metals and the body is made by bons of black cat.
This weird pen can swallows any ink without blood, and if any story of any person's life will written by it then the pen also digests their souls. At first the magician didn't want to give it to me. Then I took a burning branch of Neem tree and stab him by it. Then it didn't take long to get this pen.
Then what! One mudder after another continued. But I'm not the mudderer. I'm just a writter. This pen is indestructible. It doesn't break, doesn't burn, doesn't sink. It only knows the thirst of blood, hunger of souls. So it has no punishment. It's ink doesn't expire like it's lifespan.
Only when the writter is finished does it find its own writter.
I also like it. I also like to kill without any effort, just by spending blood. It's like it's intoxicated me. However my body is getting weaker day by day due such lack of blood. But that doesn't matters to me.
While doing morning work in this morning, I met a girl named Sunita who had just arrived at the house which is in my neighbour.
Seeing her face , I recognised her life from a great distance. The girl is very friendly. Not a introvert like me. We talk for a long time. She is a widow, Cute looking , young girl.
As she was leaving, she said "see you tomorrow!"
But , is it possible?
After returning home I walked to the table in a hypnotic way. Even then there is a lot of blood in the pen.
Then I began to write a story by blood ink.
Sunita was sitting in the drawing room watching TV, suddenly she heard a sound and want to the kitchen. A knife fall in the ground. She took it and placed it on the table. When she about to leave the kitchen she turned as she heard the same sound, and she saw the knife again fall down. She felt annoyed and placed it on the table and turned to the backward. But the sound came again. This time she felt a little bit sceard. Why this knife is falling down again and again.
She took it but this time she put on the gas table and leave the kitchen.
But the knife fall again, but this time it stuck in the cylinder pipe.
At the noon she enters to the kitchen to make dinner. She puts water for cooking in the oven while pushing tha gas lighter, and then_________________
I stop writing. What am I writing?
Why am I writing?
I had no desire to write this story named 'knife beating'
This pen possessed me, hypnotized me. I'm also getting weak by constantly speeding weapons in my body. I don't want to let it happen anymore. So for the last time , I'm writing "Stroke of Blood ink" by consuming blood. But don't know what will happen after that. The tax will die mine or this pen's.
I don't know!
I really don't know!
It just feels like good to know that I don't have to be the listener of the death story which written by myself....
- The end...
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What do you think? which will die?
1) author
2) demonic Pen
3) both of them
4)non of them...
(Tell me in comments)
If you find any grammatical mistakes please tell me in comments box.
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Thanks for reading☺️❤️
