The masked killer

So here’s how it started:

The night was dark and gloomy, and the streets were empty, except for the sound of crickets chirping in the distance. As I walked down the deserted path, the wind howled eerily, sending chills down my spine. I had heard rumors about masked killers lurking in the shadows, waiting for their next victim. However, I had brushed off these rumors as mere hearsay until today.

As I turned the corner, a shadowy figure appeared out of nowhere, wearing a black mask that covered their face, leaving barely a glimpse of their eyes visible. I tried to make a run for it, but I could feel their presence breathing down my neck.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to mask my fear.

Silence followed, and then suddenly, they yanked me by the waist, dragging me into the dark alley that led towards the end of the street. I held back a scream, biting on my lips as I tried to resist, but the person behind the mask was strong, overpowering me with ease.

"Please, let me go," I pleaded, hoping that the plea would fall on deaf ears.

Suddenly, the mask came off, revealing the face of my childhood friend, James. I was shocked to see him in this state, his eyes bloodshot, and his face covered in sweat.

"James, what are you doing?" I asked, still trying to process the situation.

He looked at me with a blank stare, and then suddenly, he lunged at me, raising an axe in his hand. I dodged him just in time, and he missed slicing through my neck by inches.

"James, stop!" I yelled, trying to reason with him, but it seemed like the person behind the mask had taken over him.

I ran for my life, trying to make my way out of the alley, but James was hot on my trail, his footsteps echoing through the silence. I finally found a way out, and I sprinted in the opposite direction, towards the main street, hoping to seek help from someone, anyone.

As I ran, I heard footfalls coming towards me, and then suddenly, James emerged from the darkness, still holding the axe in his hand.

"James, please," I pleaded, "Why are you doing this?"

He looked at me with a cold stare, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "It's not me," he said, his voice sounding unfamiliar, "It's the mask."

I understood what he meant. The person behind the mask had taken over him, turning him into a killing machine, with no feelings, emotions, or a conscience.

I had to save him, and I had to do it fast. I decided to take matters into my own hands and made a run for James, hoping to knock the mask off his face. I managed to hit him, and the mask fell off.

James collapsed to the ground, his eyes filling with tears as he stared at me. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I couldn't control it."

"It's okay," I replied, "Let's get you some help."

The police arrived shortly after, and with their help, we got James admitted to a mental health facility. It was a traumatic experience for both of us, but it had brought us closer than ever before as we fought it together side by side

From that day on, I learned to never brush off rumors about masked killers and to always trust my instincts. And most importantly, I learned to never give up on a friend, no matter how difficult the situation may seem as a friend in need is a friend indeed

The End.