I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I had died probably 15 minutes ago by a raving lunatic. I know, drastic way to go right? Actually, it was quite thrilling.

So, there I was walking on Park Street when I hear this noise coming off from the left. It wasn't like anything I'd heard before. I shouldn't have done it. I'd still be alive. Those are the choices we make I guess. Anyway, I go over to see what's up and this guy jumps out wearing a hockey mask. I though it was some sad impersonator. But it wasn't. He dragged me off.

I had struggled for a while, then stopped, seeing it was no use. He then shouted something about glory and started stabbing me. I was screaming. Several people ran up. They were watching in horror as he killed me. The police showed up and arrested him. My name will be plastered everywhere, not that it really matters to me. I'm dead.