I don't know when it all started. I guess my first hint that anything would happen was how unusually windy it's been lately. I think that was probably it... that first windy day... when he appeared. I should have listened to him. Maybe if I did this all would have been avoided. Maybe they'd still live. Maybe I'd still be alive.
I'm sorry... I'm not making sense, am I? Let me start over.
My name is George. I can't give you my last name. Even in death I'm not safe. If anything I'm risking what I have left giving you that. I'll tell you what I can of my story, but whatever you do don't try to find or save me. Even if I have a bit of time, I want all of it to be used telling you why you should be careful.
It was... sometime in July, I think. It was an incredibly windy day, I remember that clearly. One of those days where if you listened carefully you could hear the wind howling. Me and a couple friends of mine were hanging out in this local park. We were just bullshitting each other with random things, but one of them started acting strangely.
He left to take a piss in the woods, but when he came back the guy looked like he'd seen his own ghost. I guess that could have been half right, if he knew what I know now.
We asked him what was wrong, but then all the color in his face came back and he looked at us like we were stupid.
Naturally we didn't think to look further into it. I'm not sure if I'm glad or regretful that we didn't. A little of both, I guess. The rest of the day we kept bullshitting away like nothing had happened, when, in fact, something very sinister was happening.
For the next few days he slowly got quieter and quieter, like something had been getting him down that he was trying and hide. Me and my other buddy kept pestering him about it now and again, but he wouldn't say what was wrong.
About a week after that windy day a police officer came up to me and asked if I could give him a few answers. Naturally I said yes, not wanting any trouble, but the questions were odd.
Especially one in particular.
"We were told that a friend of yours had died a week ago. Can you tell us a little about him?"
Now this was odd because nobody had died as far as I could tell. In fact, I'd been with both of my true friends the entire week. At least four or five hours a day. However this strange cop kept insisting that my buddy had been dead for a week.
I started thinking about it afterwards, but about an hour later I was with the guy the cop kept asking about. He seemed as healthy as can be, too. My other buddy was there, and they were talking to each other normally.
"There's no way he could be dead," I thought to myself. Again, I was half right.
The next few days things stayed relatively normal, and each day I was asked a couple more questions by the police.
Then it happened.
I eventually told him that I had been hanging out with both of them for the past couple weeks. When the cop told me that was impossible I pointed towards both of them. Then he asked me who I was pointing to. According to him I was pointing to a bush, with nobody there.
What made it worse was that I could hear both of my friends telling him that they were there. I couldn't figure out why this cop wasn't able to see or hear them. I mean the three of us were socially invisible, but this was ridiculous.
It wasn't for another few days that I started to realize something. People were talking about me, saying I had imaginary friends. This wasn't true, of course. Eventually I confronted someone, and they said something about talking to thin air.
When I asked my buddies they heard the same rumors. Nobody could see them. Nobody could hear them. Nobody... except... me.
It was frustrating. But finally, three weeks after it happened, a man confronted me. He was tall, I'd say a little over six feet, and in a large trench coat that nearly hit the floor. I can remember that conversation better than anything else in my entire life.
"Sir, I need to talk to you."
"What about?" I asked curiously.
"You've been talking to two people a lot lately. Two people that have been dead for one and two weeks respectively. Why is this?" he told me. I could feel myself getting angry.
"They aren't dead! I mean, I know that we're practically invisible, but why does everyone keep saying that they aren't around when I can see and hear them perfectly?" I asked, holding in most of my anger.
"Because you, George, are a little too sensitive." But I had never introduced myself. He called me by name without me saying what it is. "I know your name because we've been aiming for you. But your friends got in the way."
"What are you talking about?"
"A month ago a man told you that the black wind howled your name. Tell me, what did you think he was talking about?"
"I thought he was crazy!"
"Yet the wind has kicked up for the past month. Blowing constantly. Constantly howling." At which point the wind grew loud, as if on command. "I will give you one more week. Brace yourself."
And now it's been a week. A long week, at that. The cops didn't believe me, my professors didn't believe me, and the college counselor didn't believe me.
Now I wait for him to come. All I have is a shotgun and my will to live. Wish me luck. I may hjbmn hj-
When we found him the victim was bent over with his head resting on the keyboard, and this note on the computer screen, which we assume he was typing it before he died.
We don't know how he knew he was going to die, but we couldn't find any trace of a killer. Death is assumed to be from heart attack, as there is no injury, signs of struggle, or any trace of a forced entry. Case closed.