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I Shouldn’t Have Said Yes


I died yesterday. I know I did. I know I did… I was walking across the street when suddenly a horn started blasting out of nowhere. The next thing I knew, I was laying on my back staring up into a cloudy sky. All the noises around me began to fade and soon enough, I was enveloped in calm silence. It was almost peaceful. I could feel a surge of warmth and, right as I closed my eyes for what I knew would be the last time, I heard a voice as clear as day. It resonated in that silence as it said, “Remember our deal.”

So, you see, I know I died. I know that the events that caused my death yesterday actually happened. I know they did because, when I woke up this morning alone in my bed, I felt as though I had been hit by a truck. I looked over my battered body. I had lumps and bruises and cuts that I knew were the result of the accident that killed me. Yet, here I am. Alive, breathing. I checked the online news and there’s a report of an “unidentifiable man” being struck and killed by a truck yesterday. It was me. It had to have been me. I stood up in a daze and shuffled into my bathroom. Flipping on the light, I saw a piece of tattered paper taped to my bathroom mirror. It was singed along the edges and written in what appeared to be scratches. A blackened, burned series of scratches which somehow were legible enough for me to decipher. The scratches read, “Another day for fun. You are mine. We’ve just begun.”

I know what this is. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I didn’t think anything of it when I made the deal. As an atheist, I thought the joke would be on them. My wife died in childbirth. She had just delivered my little girl when a nurse approached me. She looked… She looked like a shadow. A shadow with hints of features when in the light, but as soon as the light shifted and darkness returned, the features disappeared and a grey mist was all that remained. She asked me if I wanted my daughter to live. My daughter was premature and in critical condition. Her words jerked me away from the edge of becoming completely catatonic and I yelled out, “Absolutely, yes! Of course!” She told me I would have to make a trade. My soul for my daughter’s life. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even think. I just kept saying “yes,yes” over and over to her. She told me my daughter would never know me. That she would be given to a family with a mother to care for her. That I wouldn’t be enough and didn’t know enough to care for her by myself. I didn’t understand. This was my child, but if I didn’t agree, there would be no child. I had to agree. I had to say yes.

Now my soul isn’t mine anymore. It has become some kind of toy for something I never even believed to truly exist to play with as it pleases. As I realized what was happening, I became more and more depressed. I just tried to kill myself. I went up to the roof of my building, ten stories up, and with tears in my eyes, I jumped off the ledge.

Yet, here I am. Again. In my bed, more sore than I was before. I can see another note on my bathroom mirror. I don’t need to read it. I already know what it says…

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

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