It was just a small postcard in the newsagent's window but it caught my eye. It had a rather odd and alarming feature which both shocked and intrigued me. Getting closer, just to check I wasn't going crazy, the bold red stain slowly began dripping down the window. Even through the thick glass window I could smell the scent of iron. It made me feel nauseous, but I had to read what the postcard said, no matter how frightening it could have been...

'Dear Samantha,
I fear to tell you what is to come but I am afraid that the words simply cannot escape my lips so instead I write you these words.
I'm dreadfully sorry but it seems our summer love must come to an end. Not because I have fallen for another but because I as a person have fallen.
I have failed to complete a simple task so I will pay with my life. By the blood stains and trembling writing you can assume that my time is already drawing to an end.
No matter what people tell you my last thoughts were of you, my sweet angel. I just wish I could have told you with my last breath.
You shall always have a place in my breaking heart. I cannot wait to see you in the next life when we have our reunion.
Never forget me.
You're sincerely'

There was no name sighed just a thumb print of ink and blood. In shock I let out a small gasp, assuming Samantha's lover had been murdered. Conflicted, my mind filled with questions of which the sweet satisfaction of answers would not be found. Fearful, I wondered, could their be a killer in my town?
Bravely, I pushed open the newsagent door and scurried over to where the post card was. The stench was even stronger in the building. I gently removed the post card from the now stained window and searched it carefully. There was no address, the victim had not been able to write an address before they died a painful death.
Curiously, I looked around the room to try and find any hints at all as to where the post card had come from. The shelves were like skyscrapers, stacked with old tinned food. There were several stacks of newspapers, most of which out dated and dusty. In the far right of the room was a door, it looked like it had a fresh coat of paint only a few days before.
I edged closer to the door, the aroma of death getting stronger. Gently I pulled open the door and looked inside. It was dark and cold. In the distance was a body leaning on a desk. I got closer and closer until I was stood right behind them. There was blood stained to the desk, dripping down the side and landing on the carpeted floor.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a trigger being pulled. A sharp pain arose in my lower chest. Shocked, I looked down, realising I had been shot.
"Another one so soon? My pall here only just came in yesterday. I haven't even gotten around to removing the body yet" a deep voice snarled
I turned slightly, seeing a face in the shadows. One I didn't recognise. They began getting closer to me. With animalistic fury he pushed the body away from the desk and to the ground. He shoved me to the desk, placing a stack of paper and a pen in front of me.
"Write something, whatever you want. This is what you get for being suspicious. Haven't you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat? Well now your curiosity has killed you" he laughed then walked out of the room, licking it behind him
So I wrote. I wrote these words and this story. Don't be curious. If anyone sees this do not enter the newsagents. Run. Run as fast as you can. Because he will find you.
Don't come back here.
And don't forget...
Yours sincerely