The Diary of a Man

Reads: 97  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Please help me. I am trapped in this room. It has no windows, only a bed, a sink, a toilet, a clock...and this book.

Submitted: March 08, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2012

A A A

A A A


It all started on a Wednesday. It was just a typical Wednesday; nothing special at all about it. The sun wasn’t shining, the birds weren’t chirping, and there sure as hell wasn’t anything to suggest that this would be the day my entire life would be changed forever. There was that feeling though. The feeling I’ve had my entire life. The feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching me over my shoulder. Observing me. Waiting for the right opportunity to approach me. But for what? My friends called me paranoid when I tell them about this "feeling" but you know as well as I do that you've had this feeling too. The feeling that something is sitting just over your right shoulder and you can feel them there. But then you turn around and...Nothing.

I was walking down 4th ave when I saw it. It was sitting on a table outside one of those outdoor cafés. A letter, with nothing but the words, “read this Mark” on it. I’m not even sure why I it drew my attention, or why I picked it up. It could have been for anyone named Mark (This is New York City, there’s a million Marks). Come to think of it, why hadn’t anyone else picked it up before me? After I picked it up, I didn’t know if I should have sat right down and read it, or ran home with it. There I go again, with the whole paranoia thing. “Ok, Calm down Mark, your tripping out, and you need to relax man” Said the friendly little voice inside my head. I put the letter in my pocket, and started walking home with it, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

I sat down on my couch and put the letter down on the coffee table in front of me. I assumed it was best for me to smoke a bowl before opening this letter. I went to my closet where I kept my assorted bongs and pipes. It felt like a Bong kind of day. I reached for my favorite, “Bongasaurus”, but someone had attached a note on Bongasaurus. I just assumed it was a note from my roommate, so I read it without thinking anything of it. “Its time to read the letter, Mark”, is what it said. I don’t need to tell you what went through my mind the next 10 minutes. I’m a paranoid stoner, what the hell do you think I thought about?

30 minutes and 4 bowls later, I opened it. “Deep breathes Mark, It’s probably nothing”. Thanks voice in my head, but I’m pretty sure were past that.

I was expecting a few paragraphs telling me what was going on. But all I got was 4 haunting sentences. “Do you remember where you were from 1996 to 1999, Mark? Do you remember what happened to you? Because I do. And if your ready, I can show you”.

That’s all it said. What the fuck is this? I remember exactly what I was doing from 1996 through 1999. I mean, I kind of do. But wait, that doesn’t even matter. If you’re old as I am, remembering your life can be hard sometimes. High school is a blur. College is a blur. It all just kind of went by real fast. I mean, do you really remember what you were doing between 1996 and 1999?

Ok, whoever you are, I’m ready. "IM READY!!" I scream. nothing. Well, that was pointless. This is way too much for me to handle right now. Maybe I should smoke a bowl. I head over to my pipe drawer. The only good thing about being in your 40's is the pipe collection you amount. I have pipes from all over the world! You should see them.

I open the drawer and I see a book that I’m sure wasn’t there before. Its hard to explain, but this book looks very old and used, but it also looks as if it was taken care of...Like it was a very valuable possesion for someone. On the front cover, it says, "The Diary of a man", written in what im sure is really old blood. I skim through it real quick and see every entry starts with a day number, and words written in pencil. There are long entries and short entries. Let’s read this thing, I need to find out whats going on. I open to the first page. The writing looks...familiar. But I have no time for that right now, I need to read this thing and figure out whats going on here.

Day 4: WHO ARE YOU? LET ME GO

Day 5: I know you took this from me last night. I know it. WHO ARE YOU?

Day 6: whoever might read this: Please help me. Im trapped in this room. It has no windows, only a bed, a sink, a toilet, a clock.. and this book. One of the walls is a big mirror. I know someone's on the other side looking at me. PLEASE LET ME OUT.

day 7: I dont understand whats going on. At 8am and 5pm someone slides food through the little small opening on the bottom of the door. Atleast the food is good, they keep serving me fishsticks. I love fish sticks. PLEASE LET ME GO.

Day 8: nothing makes sense to me anymore. im stuck in nothingness. Nothing happens. I eat twice a day, but no one say a thing. All I ever see is the one hand that slides the food through twice a day. I yell but I know its no help. I’ve yelled every single time and no one answers. No one ever answers.

Day 9: fishsticks for lunch and fish sticks for dinner are getting old quick.

this goes on, day after day. I can see whats going on here. But who is this guy? Why do I have this? Nothing makes sense. I cant read every entry, I need to find out whats going on, RIGHT NOW. I skip a few pages...

Day 30: I fucking cant do this anymore. My life is nothing. I can’t leave my mind. Its all I have. And this book. do you know how slow your life becomes when you stare at a clock and say every second out loud for 4 hours straight? I have nothing.

I skip a few more pages

Day 54: I dont know how I got here. I...cant really remember where I was or what I was doing before I got here. I remember being at home, cooking dinner, than something hit me. I know it hit me in the back of the head because I could still feel it when I woke up in here. I feel like they have total control over my mind. I feel like they have erased some memory of mine... A memory that is very important to me understanding why I am here. You know who Im talking about. The people behind the mirror. I can feel them everyday. Watching me, observing me.

I skip a few more pages...

Day 79: I deserve to be here. I alienated everyone that ever tried to get into my life. I havent talked to my parents in years. The girlfriends ive had, ive lost... Always my fault. Does anyone even know im gone? Are they even looking for me? I doubt it. I am just a man who disapeared, and no one even noticed.

I skip a few more pages...

Day 104: FUCK YOU FISH STICKS! I FUCCKING HATE YOUUUUUU. GO FUCK A FISH!

I just dont really understand whats going on. Im about to put the diary down and smoke a bowl, when this page next page catches my eye, and it feels like someone just ripped my heart out of my chest...

Day 168: To whoever may read this. My name is Mark Johnson. Or atleast I believe thats my name. I just dont know anymore. Who really am I? I now know a world has never existed. I was born in this room. Everything I ever did, happened in this room. I created the universe around my in my mind, and went through the day, always inside my mind. Its been me, and only me. This entire time, it was me. There never was a mom, there never was a dad. No friends.

This..this just cant be. Who is doing this to me? And why? I didnt write this. Or at least, I think I didnt write this. I just dont know what to believe anymore. I skim through the book even faster. I need to get to the end of this. NOW.

Day 269: I tried bashing my head into the sink today. but I fainted. I woke up and my head was stitched. who stitched my head? WHO ARE YOU?

Day 274: I tried stabbing myself with my own pencil. Pencil's dont make very good stabbing mechanisms, I barely punctured the skin. The pain I feel, almost feels real. But I know that it isnt. It is, like everything else, a creation of my mind.

the entries are no longer going day by day. they skip days at a time now.

Day 282: I got sick of the colors of my walls so I changed them. They are now blue. the little man in the corner agrees that its a good color for these walls. oh I didnt introduce you to my new friend? Hes the man who always sits in my corner. He never moves, and he never says a thing. No matter how much I tell him to come play with me, he doesnt listen.

there are only 2 more entries left...

day 305? 309? 420? 1,420? I no longer know. I no longer care. I no longer choose to have this universe exist. Everything must now disappear.

the last entry, on the last page of this book.

my name is...I dont know. I am a man. To whoever may read this: know that I lived, know that I laughed, and know that I loved. Goodbye.

This cant be real? these memories dont exist in my mind...but somehow, I can see my hands writing these words... All of these words. But how?

Theres a knock at my door. I run over to open it, but whoever it was is gone. I see a note on the ground, grab it, and run out of my house. No one around. I run back to my house and read the note.

"hello Mark Johnson! I see you have read your diary! We hope you enjoyed it! You did exceptionally well, Mark Johnson! you lasted 307 days in our experiment! that FAR exceeds anyone else that has ever been a part of this experiment. But Mark Johnson, we believe you can do better. We believe that next time, you can last 500 days!"

I read these words over and over, but I just don't understand what they are saying. What experiment? How do they know me? WHO ARE THEY? I decide the best thing I can do now, is sit down and smoke a bowl. Im about to light the bowl, when I get that all too familiar feeling. The feeling ive had my entire life. The feeling that something is sitting just over your right shoulder and you can feel them there. But then you turn around and...*THUD*

what...what happened? I open my eyes but my surroundings remain dark. It feels like something hit me in the back of my head. I... Cant really remember what I was doing or where I was before I got here. The last thing I remember is walking down 4th ave. I believe it was a Wednesday. I remember seeing a note... But I cant remember what it said or what happened after.

I need to find a light and find out where I am. I Find the light switch and take a look around at my surroundings. Its a room. I try the door, but it doesnt open. I am trapped in this room. It has no windows, only a bed, a sink, a toilet, a clock... and this book. One of the walls is a big mirror. I know someone's on the other side looking at me.

THE END.


© Copyright 2017 yoinkie. All rights reserved.