At the dead of the night, the protagonist squirmed in suffocation, lying on his bed, desperately trying to breathe. His chest felt cold and his blood gushed out as the dark figure thrusted his dagger deeper into his chest.
He suffered, unable to break free from the killer’s grasp, and witnessed his consciousness slowly fade away.
The protagonist shot out his bed gasping in horror. He swiftly focused on his chest, still out of breath. No signs of being stabbed.
He was sure he was dead.
He anxiously surveyed the room to see if the killer was there. No sign of him either.
He then gulped down a bottle of water and plopped himself on his bed.
I guess I dreamt it all…That was one hell of a nightmare.
As he was mentally readying himself to go back to sleep he noticed that something was odd…
The lights were already switched on.His laptop was also kept switched on, on his bed, and some papers were scattered all over the place. Seems like he had been working, not sleeping.
But his memories told another story – he completed all his work and went to bed by 11:00 pm after cleaning up the pot which the wind knocked down. He also remembered texting his friend who invited him to a weekend meet-up before going to bed.
Unsure of the incongruity between his memory and his reality, he glanced at the clock.
He squinted unable to believe what he saw.
What the–? It’s just 9:10? Does that mean the part about me sleeping was also a dream? So that means…
He turned his gaze towards the potted plant near the window.
Just as I thought. The pot isn’t broken.
He checked his phone for any messages from his friend, but no luck. So it was a dream.
Dozing off while working are we? Anyways, I better get back to work.
He started working on his freelance project which he took up a week ago. The work was simple. He just had to edit and rewrite the document which was sent to him in a more effective, and descriptive manner – just your average ghostwriter job, but the reward was pretty hefty. It would’ve been a waste to skip this offer, so he took it.
While working, he kept having this uncanny feeling that he had gone through the same scenario before. He sighed and continued to work shaking off that weird feeling. When he was just about to finish his work, a strong, chill breeze knocked over the potted plant near the window.
The breaking noise of the pot split through the deafening silence of the night. The protagonist’s heart went mile a minute.
Is this for real!? It actually happened!! Holy crap, did I actually predict the future!?
Normally, he would’ve been excited to know that he foresaw a future event, as it was his fantasy to be able to get some superhuman powers, but in this particular case, his mind didn’t want to believe that. That’s because if he had actually foresaw the future, then it would mean, tonight…he will die.
Noway. It was just a coincidence. That’s all. He convinced himself and started cleaning up the floor.
It was 10:50 pm.
The protagonist’s phone beeped.
Don’t tell me this is what I think that it is.
He nervously took his phone and opened the message. It was from his friend inviting him to a meetup this weekend.
He was stricken with fear and started sweating profusely. The phone slipped his hands and hit the floor.
Does this mean… I’m going to die?
No. It can’t be. No one can predict the future. Such things are not possible.Science rules this world, not magic. Maybe all the fictional writing I’ve been doing recently is messing with my mind.
He picked up the phone and texted back that he would be there at usual place like always, and switched off the lights and went to bed.
Half an hour went by and he was still unable to sleep. The thought of him being murdered grew stronger and stronger.
But he barely had any energy to move his body, so he just lay there with his eyes closed until a sudden chill went down his spine.
Uncomfortable of that feeling he opened his eyes. That’s when he noticed the dark figure standing beside him. It was too dark to identify who it was, but it was definitely the figure of a man. A strong one at that.
He was petrified with fear. His heart started dashing against his chest as if it would jump and run out of his body if it could.
The dark figure took out his dagger ready to kill him, unaware that the protagonist was awake.
Instinctively, the protagonist pushed the murderer back and tried to run away, but before he could leave the room, an immense pain cropped up on his shoulder. It was as if his shoulder was being ripped apart from his body.
The sound of the dagger grating his bones and muscles made him realise that the killer had run his dagger through his right shoulder.
The protagonist screamed in agony and his eyes watered.
A gloved hand reached to the protagonist’s mouth and pulled him back into the shadows. Before he could realise the murderer slit his throat, and his lifeless body hit the ground.
The protagonist shot out his bed gasping in horror. He looked around placing his hands on his throat.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
His body shivered uncontrollably as he absently reminiscenced on his experience.
There’s no way it was a dream!
His experience was beyond comprehension. He had already died twice on the same night, yet there he was, still alive. Everything felt so real, but he knew it was impossible.
Unable to understand what’s going on, he enveloped himself with a blanket and crouched down at the corner of the room, still shivering.
“N-no…I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be killed. It hurt. It hurt like hell. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die”- he kept mumbling these words again and again.
Time went by, and he was still unable to calm himself down. His heart was pumping, chest was screaming, and his mind was relentlessly replaying his death. The horror he first handedly experienced was too much for him to handle.
Damn it all. Why? Why is this happening to me? I’m just a freelancer for God’s sake. Why would anyone want to kill a nobody like me? WHY!?
The wind knocked down the pot, and shattered it to pieces. Again? The protagonist looked at the shattered pieces with his tired grey eyes.
He stared, and stared until he burst into a hysterical laughter.
That’s right! I should just kill him before he can kill me! Yeah, that ought to put an end to all this!!
He laughed like a mad scientist who had just made a groundbreaking discovery. He was clearly on the verge of losing his sanity.
Determined to fight for his life, he scavenged his house to gather all the necessary items which he could use as weapons. Couple of knives and forks. Deodorant and lighter. Glass bottles. He gathered all of them.
He then unlocked his front door, so that he can run out of his house without any delay if things didn’t go as planned. He also placed some objects, like glass bottles,plates, etc here and there between his bedroom and the front door, so that he can use them to lose his killer as he runs away.
He also placed a polythene bag in the gap between the door, so that it could alarm him if the murderer enters his house through the front door.
Right. All set. I’ll pretend to sleep and catch him off guard. Then I’ll use the deodorant and lighter to burn his face and unsettle him. While he is still unsteady and confused, I’ll take the opportunity to slit his throat, just the same way as he did to me, and finish him once and for all. And if things didn’t go my way, I’ll just run outside my house, lock him inside, and get the hell outta here before he breaks out.
The protagonist turned off all the lights and went to bed with a smug look on his face. He was lying on the bed covering his body with a blanket, concealing his “weapons” beneath it.
I’ll survive this for sure, but what am I gonna do with his body once I finish him off? Well, that’s a trouble for later.
There was still some time for the killer to show up, so he waited, contemplating his fight against his killer.
After a while, he heard the scrumpling sound of the polythene bag he had planted between the door. The killer was definitely in.
As I thought, he must’ve broken into my house through the front door all this time. After all, there’s no other way in besides the backdoor. Unlike before, I’ve kept it unlocked this time around. He’s probably thinking that I made his job easier, but he’s in for a surprise. He contained his grin, and pretended to sleep.
He could clearly hear the footsteps closing in.
He anxiously readied the deodorant and lighter, then slowly opened his eyes. The moon light lit the stout-dark figure of the dreadful killer. He was not wearing any mask, but it was still too dark to see the features of his face.
Quick as a lightening, the protagonist shrugged off the blanket and pushed the killer away. He followed up by spraying the deodorant through the lighter aiming for the killer’s face. The killer was taken aback by the surprise attack. Then, as planned, the protagonist went for his throat, but the killer grabbed his hands before he could do it.
“You seem awfully prepared”, said the murderer with his raspy voice and tightened his grip which almost broke the protagonist’s wrist.
The protagonist yelled in pain. Desperate to free his hand, he stabbed the murderer’s forearm with the fork, which he had hidden inside his pocket. He certainly made contact with the target, but the killer barely flinched.
Damn it. I can’t escape!
“Nice work, kid. But you’re just not strong enough to take me on.” The murderer laughed. “You sure did take me by surprise back there. So tell me, how did you know I was coming for you?”
“Just let go of my hands you freak”, the protagonist yelled and thrusted the fork deeper with all his might. Blood squished out and tainted the coat the killer was wearing.
The killer let go of the protagonist’s hand and pulled out the fork which was deeply rooted into his forearm. He tossed it away like it was nothing.
“That hurt”, he said, but his voice devoid of any sensation pain. It was as if he could not feel pain.
He knocked the protagonist down with a single blow and stabbed him in his legs with the dagger multiple times. The killer then left his dagger embedded into the protagonist’s leg and looked around for something to patch up his wounded arm.
“Don’t go and die on me before I patch myself up. It would be such a waste if I had to lose my arm just for killing a pest like you”, he said as he tore the bedspread and bandaged his wound.
The protagonist’s legs were mashed and covered in blood. He had to fight to even stay conscious. That’s it. My bones are shattered. I can’t feel my legs anymore… I don’t even feel the pain. I guess this is what they call a Hypovolemic shock, huh? He definitely got me bad. I’m only going to have a couple of minutes before I bleed to death…
“Well now, look who’s still conscious”, the murderer said with a grin, with his arm all patched up.
“Any last words, boy?”
“Tell me…why…why are you doing this to me”, the protagonist asked with a great effort.
“You don’t know? Seeing as how you were prepared to face me, I thought you knew why.” He sighed. “Well, since you are going to die anyways, I guess I’ll tell you.”
He fell for it. He is actually going to honour my “last” words. At the very least, I’ll get some answers before I rewind. It’s worth it. Now if I c-can just stay conscious until then…
“You just know too much for your own good. You might not realize it, but the work you were hired to do recently is much more valuable than you think. That information could even turn the world upside down, and such information was leaked to you. Maybe she thought we wouldn’t realize it if she set it up like a random freelance job, or maybe she’s just using you as her pawn in some complex plot. Whatever the case, that’s what sealed your fate.”
“I…I see. Should’ve known something was fishy when they offered such high price just for some lame editing…”, he laughed at his own naivety.
“Interesting. You don’t seem to fear death, but this is as far as you go. You’ll die of blood loss soon. I’ll spare you the finishing blow as a respect for your courage”, he said as he walked away.
The protagonist lay there on the floor immobile, and waited for his impending death. And just within a minute after the murderer left the room, his life came to an end.
The protagonist found himself in the corner of the room covering beneath a blanket.
I woke up at a different time!? He glanced at the clock. It was 10:30 pm. So, I’ve got little less than 2 hours now…Why did my time reduce? The first two times I rewinded to somewhere around 9:00 pm. But this time it’s already 10:30 pm.
He stood up, and threw the blanket onto his bed.
Does that mean I don’t have infinite lives like I thought that I did? Maybe my rewinding power will keep reducing if I get killed over and over…Then at one point, I should die for real, right…?
There’s no surety he’ll rewind the next time. He can’t afford be reckless like the last time. He knew he won’t be able to take on a muscular person mano-a-mano, but he went through with that plan anyways. He decided not to take his life for granted anymore.
Only if I could rewind to last week, I could have denied this cursed job and I’ wouldn’t have had to go through all this hell… He sighed. No point in complaining now. I just have to pay the price for my greed.
He then went to his laptop, and skimmed through the document that was sent to him by the lady who hired him. He used to think that it was a plot for some sci-fi novel. It said something about certain places on Earth that had intense alien particles which causes abnormal phenomena. However the effective range of these particles was theoretically calculated to be within that of a room. Anybody in there can experience that phenomenon, but it won’t have any effect on the outside world.
So that’d mean if I die outside my room…
The protagonist gulped, as he realized how lucky he was to get killed within his room. He was glad that he wasn’t able to escape, for it would have meant his demise.
His body was all spent. He felt extremely tired, as if some vampire sucked out all his energy.
Okay…this is taking a toll on my body too, huh? But this is expected. After all, I’ve spent a whole day and 2 evenings awake.
He wanted to stay awake but is eyelids won’t cooperate. They kept dropping down, no matter how much he tried to resist.
But I should not…sleep…I…cannot…I..will…di–
The protagonist fainted.
End of Chapter 1
So what do you think about my very first chapter of my very first Novel? Is it any good? What do you expecet more? Where do you think I can improve myself? It’d be great if you could write your thoughts down in the comment section below!
If ya liked my story, why not treat me with a Coffee?
* Here’s the link to Chapter 2 >.< https://my.w.tt/JGlrWKnp6P