he killed his lover

July 7 Fog

【Harlan didn't come back last night, together with Alex.

Alex appeared in the morning, his body was covered with the morning dew in the forest, and his face was pale.And I know he was not in the tent last night, his bedding was not warm.

And Harlan didn't come back all day today.

I don't know what happened last night.But that must not be a good thing.

To try to question a man who is silent is in itself the greatest lie.

The road was really long, without the interference of the dense forest and the entanglement of rotten branches and leaves, we walked very quickly.But it still hasn't come to an end.It will always be covered by a piece of verdant greenery, people can't see the front, and it will never end.

The only thing to overcome is the growing fear and insecurity inside, which is almost more deadly than anything else.

May the smoke and clouds drift away and finally dissipate, and the road ahead can lead us into the bright light. 】

Landing the last symbol, he turned the page forward without stopping.

But his fingertips were trembling, and he was looking forward to this person who suddenly appeared in his diary.

Looking forward to him being able to save him from leaving.

With the light coming in from outside, he could clearly see the extra lines.

【The fetters will eventually be abandoned, and the trust will die from the poison/drug of bitter tea.Kill everyone around you, and when the blood is all over your body, you can gain a new life in the morning sun tomorrow. 】

What do these words mean?These vicious, vaguely cursed words.

Sewell thought a little confused.

He slowly closed the strange dark door.It leads to the unknown, to the invisible and omnipresent hands, to the man whose face cannot be seen clearly.

These words have nothing to do with him.That's what he thought at last.

Then put the diary carefully into the inside of the backpack.

His slightly sweaty palms suddenly felt a soft touch.

Like a light lick from the rough, warm tip of a large dog's tongue.

Sewell's breathing became heavier, and he shuddered slightly.

Rubbing along its shape, he had a vague guess about that thing in his heart.

His hands stopped.

A few wisps of wind disturbed his black hair, and the forest was still dead silent, without any sound.

Sewell peeped stealthily through the slanted window.

His eyes were wide open, like those forest owls that had been everywhere before.

There seemed to be no one.

It's like there shouldn't be anyone in this deep dense forest.

He grabbed it with that hand and slowly took it out.

That's a dagger.

An ordinary-looking dagger.

It was wrapped in a thick piece of deerskin, revealing a slightly curved dark red hilt.

This dagger is a little old, and an old dark color seeps out of the blade.

But it was still very sharp, a deep groove was carved coldly and straight along the arc.

Sewell could not see his own shadow on its surface.

Its surface has lost its original color due to the rust of years and blood, but Sewell feels that it reflects countless black shadows.

Those black shadows followed him quietly, everywhere.

They watched him as he lay in his tent sleeping.

They watched him as he ate his supper by the campfire.

Jo and Rosa were looking at him when he kissed their foreheads goodnight.

Sewell stuffed the dagger into his backpack along with his notebook.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself.

Maybe he should have dropped it.Throw it into the deep, deep forest where there is no end and no way out.

This is an unknown object.

He tore off a shirt to wrap it up.

It was still quiet outside the tent, and the boundless silence in the forest seemed to have spread here.

Neither Alex nor the children were outside.

Sewell stood up and quietly walked out of the tent.

He walked into the jungle until he was sure he had gone far enough, deep enough.

The wrapped dagger was thrown by him into the depths of the dark forest, it bent and drew a short parabola.Rubbing against the leaves made a rustling sound, and disappeared into the forest in a blink of an eye, never to be seen again.

Sewell took a big breath out of his chest, as if throwing away those dark, terrifying unease and guesses that shouldn't be there.

He was turning around, intending to leave here, but his steps froze.

He saw a pale bone protruding from under the red pine tree beside him.

Sewell walked over and pushed aside the thick clump of sage.

In front of him was the skeleton of an adult.Perhaps it was because the time had been too long, and even some bones had begun to loosen and break, mixing with the dark soil.

He died, leaving only the dry bones in front of him.

This is the only imprint left by a former life now.Bloody warning to the latecomers.

Sewell gently brushed the dirt away.

Several white finger bones appeared in front of him.A shiny thing was tightly held between the fingers.

Sewell picked up the shining thing together with the bony hand.

An iron-gray nameplate appeared in front of him.

He broke off those bone fingers one by one, and they easily fell to the ground without any hesitation, and shattered into small white pieces.

This nameplate is not big, only the size of half a palm, just suitable for being held in one's hand.

He couldn't read the words on it.

The author has something to say:

I was reading a horror novel while writing this chapter.80.00% of the article is about various hypotheses and circumstances, and the final conclusion is that the murderer is a psychopath.I...I'm not like this...Right?