Young Writers Society

Death. Either you die by nature, or you die by being killed (weird, I know.)
Beyond that, what if something was controlling the death dates of humanity? Obviously, it would be very well hidden. You, of course, have never heard about such a thing. Everyone dies -- that's a given. "Sometimes it's an accident-- a mistake. People make mistakes, right?" Sure, a car accident or death by food poisoning may not seem like anybody's fault on the outside, but trust me. I know better.

I've seen them try to kill me.

I've watched them take away my loved ones, my family, my job; everything. I was left with nothing.
But maybe there are others like me.

Maybe that's why this letter exists.

I want you all to know, there's something out there. There's something out there that wants to control humanity. I'm not sure what myself, but it's out there.

I hope someone finds this.

I'm not dead.

My name is Raphael Lenzworth, and I'm still alive.

Raphael Lenzworth died months ago. Food poisoning, the newspaper said in a small column barely on the front page. Nobody really cared. He was a young man, about 23 or so, and apparently, both he and his girlfriend died that day.

You are someone who's escaped this fate as well. Whether it be dodging a car, not taking your usual route to work, or even simply deciding that today, you were fine with being late to that place. Whatever it was, you dodged their schemes of killing you somehow, and within a few days, you've been ousted from society. You've had to leave town, and you see a warehouse on a hill. Supplies, you think. Even if you're stocked and set for another two days of travel, it's always useful to have more.

And then, behind a billboard, you find the letter from Raphael, taped and in such a way that one wouldn't notice it unless one were to specifically walk past.

It's a bit sketchy, the page. It looks like it's been out there for a while.

But maybe there is some truth to it.