Did you write this?" Asked Peter as he admired a book from my personal library that held over a thousand books and stood three stories high
"Yeah I wrote all of them." I answered blankly
"Really? all of them? They're really good." He added as he flipped through the chosen book
"Yeah and thanks. I never expected anyone to actually read them but thanks." I said with a hint of annoyance
"Why not?" He asked with slight shock
"Because my writings are an escape. When I write I'm taken to so many worlds and times. Its like my meditation." I replied running my right index finger over a row of book spines
"You know you could make good money if you got these published." He said after putting the book back
"Possibly but like I said they weren't meant to be read by anyone." I answered as I sat behind my typewriter
"You still use a typewriter?" He asked almost in complete shock
"The sound relaxes me." I admit with a shrug
"Can I see what you're working on?" He asked as he walked over to me
"I guess." I answered with uncertainty
He stood behind me as I began to write. I never had anyone watch me write before so I felt slightly uncomfortable. After a while I look over at Peter, he seemed so fascinated by the story.
"How do you come up with all this?" He asked with amazement
"Not to sure" I shrugged "small scenes play out in my mind and I go from there I guess."
"Can I borrow some? "
The instant he finished his question I froze. I never wanted anyone to read my books, what if he thought I was insane I mean im pretty convince I am insane. Just over half of my collection was about sick twisted stuff I didnt even know I could think of. Torture, kidnapping and the most grousome murders each story with precise details it even frightens me.
"Um I'm not to sure. They are kinda personal."
"So why invite me?" He asked with a raised brow
Honestly I couldn't answer him. I don't even know why I bought him over in the frist place. I know I can trust him, why wouldn't I? We had been friends for twelve years. After a few seconds of hesitation I let out a sigh and agreed.
"But only if you let me choose. " I ordered as I got up from my typewriter
"Sounds good to me." He agreed with a self pleased smile
I walked around my library looking for any books that weren't about murder, monsters or anything that may make me look crazy. I finally found a shelf of mythical and fantasy books.
"Here. Theres are the best ones here." I said handing him three books
I felt anxious handing the books over, here I was hanging over a huge part of my life to my best friend but I knew could trust him. Couldnt I?
The next few days felt like a lifetime waiting for Peter to return the books. Around nine thirty Sunday night I finally herd the door bell ring. I ran to the door, my heart pounding in my chest then heart wrenching dread fills me when I see his face.
"Oh god where they really that bad?"
