October 2, 1876
It has been a while since I wrote in here. I wish I could find her... make her pay. That murderer escaped! I'm stuck in bed though, I have pneumonia and unfortunately, I don't believe I have much longer to live. I spend most of my time in bed. William's family help me sometimes, even though I don't ask, but I'm dying. I can feel it. I'm going to see you again, William. I will. Every breath was a struggle; my phlegm filled lungs were desperate for oxygen, but my body would not cooperate. A string of harsh coughs shook my pale and fragile form, leaving me weaker than I had thought possible. The breaths I had took were entirely too fast and shallow to be normal. I gripped a handful of my bedsheets and pleaded for the agonizing pain in my chest to stop. Tears blurred my eyes, but I shut them tightly to avoid crying. That kind of behaviour was unacceptable, I just have to take it until I get better. If I get better. To whomever reads this, when I die, please find The Night Phantom.
YOU ARE READING
The Night Phantom
Short StoryIf you are reading this, please respect my privacy and refrain from turning any more pages in my journal unless I'm dead or gave you permission. Most likely I'll be dead before I let anyone read this, so just put it back where your found it, if I am...
