First of all, let me get something straight: This thing named scary story will have real things and fiction thing. I know that all of this things need to be real, but I don’t want that THING read this and think that I am I.
I just, don’t want to die.
Great. All I need is that him/her/it read this and kill me, fake a note and I would die. I just need it in a place that is not closer to me.
Other thing, I’m gonna writing in English for first time and every grammar error is for that, I talk Spanish and that’s not my native language. Expect me writing strange things.
There a few reasons of why I wrote this:
I feel better when I wrote.
I told this story to a bunch of persons, friends, teachers, my father and they don’t believe me, why your brother and a demon will be the same? I don’t ever freaking know, I just want my brother back, I just want someone who believe in me and don’t say sarcastic things about it.
I know that I would die and I don’t want to don’t be remembered when I die (It’s such an stupid nightmare, I know).
I want to write this, no I need to write this.
I just need to thing logical.
I don’t know, I know that there’s a reason why but I don’t know how to explain.
Thanks for read this.
But this is not the ending. I know that you have a lot of interesting things that you have to do that don’t evolve a young woman saying ‘I know’ ‘I don’t know’ and don’t going at the point. I appreciate your time reading this a lot.
*hit, I’m crying.
And I don’t will go to the point right now so you can don’t read this part:
I hate to cry.
I cry for everything and I hate it, a lot of morons named classmates says “Hanna are you ok” “Hanna stop crying” Please, if I cry isn’t because I want to cry, if I wanted to cry I don’t will do it in your moron face.
Thanks for reading.
I’m sorry that you have read all this words and I’m not going to the point.
That thing is not my older brother.
That monster demon or whatever is not my brother.
If I just was a brave and strong person I would encourage him and ask: Why?
Why he don’t want that I have my brother?
Why does he hate me?
Why are you against me?
What I have done you?
I hate to cry.
Cry doesn’t do anything, that scary thing will not give you your brother if you cry and cry is as useless that the useless. Useless and cry are the equal.
I know that if that/him/her/it watch this I would not live to tell you that. But sometimes I just want that this thing read this and answer my questions, as in my dreams. But: Cry =useless=Dream. Everything has sense, right?
All my family are marvelous person’s and I’m not marvelous, I’m useless, how it/him/that/her says.
I just cry, dream, tremble, scratch my arms because I don’t want to cut my arms and draw that is also useless as he/it/her/that says.
Draw will not give you money, draw will don’t save you for any situation and say your problems on the internet is also useless.
Thanks to read this, again. I’m not going to the point and I promised that I would go to the point.
I’m Hannah.
I know that my older brother and a monster change places. He’s just nos himself, for a long 6 years or even more.
Monster is good acting, pretend to be my brother (a nice brother) when someone is in front of us and break my bones when nobody see.
But monster is not a totally monster, if he was a totally monster he would kill me, like it/him/her do to my mom and in another universe our mom. She was a nice lady, a poisoned nice lady.
I read some scary stories to know in what thing I need to begin and is the beginning of this. This is the beginning of he story.
Monster knows that I like to draw, specially girls with a bunch of colors. And I drew our family, all of we. What an enormous painted draw with all of us, the dog, my mom, my older brother, my oldest brother, my dad.
“Give me that.”
And he just take the paint and break it, he break it. The paint lol like confetti and my mind just don’t was useful in this moment because my mind is not useful, is useless. Don’t say that my mind is useful, it that shut was useful why do I can’t do anything? I am just useless, useless and useless.
And suddenly I was crying, and that’s not new, I cry for everything. For everything and I hate to cry. I like to see, to watch, to read but I would cut my eyes if that mean to never ever in my life cry for everything.
The second time I was reading a novel: “For my derelict lover” it was the type of novel that you don’t expect to be NSFW because in a looooooot of chapters the main character just were like “I can hold your hand, please?” And then in the chapter 96, they fuck. There is not problem, I’ll just don’t read that part and there’s when my brother enter.
“What useless thing are you watching?” He took my computer and with him useful angry face look the story. “96 chapters.” He murmured.
And then my face was in front of the computer. The small letters look like big letters and the text said all that fcking things. And then my foots were above the floor and in my neck were to hands “Two cuts with scissors in your foot for every chapter that you have been reading. You are not even my sister. My sister is useful and she don’t read all this sit.” At least both though the same, that monster/useless is not my brother/sister.
Thanks for read.
I’m really sorry for waste your time.
There were a lot of scary brother but I just say two of them, it was at least 35 scary brother and I couldn’t write it, this is just the 7 of 7 drafts of this story. I’m sorry.