28
Feb
There are things better left unsaid. There always have been. I’m certainly no different. I have things in my closet that I do not speak about openly. I think we all do. But given what is about to happen next, I think today is the time to speak of them.
When I was young and our family pets were old, I’d curse and shout at them for no longer being able to control themselves. They’d give me a sad look, like they wished they weren’t growing old, but they couldn’t do anything about it.
I wet the bed when I was older. For some reason, my bladder never stopped going in the night, and I had to hide it from everyone else. A little thing, but so embarrassing as a grown man.
I stole little things, here and there. They’d call out to me, speak to me, and I’d slip them in a pocket or under my shirt, and then be off with them. Nobody noticed, or at least I never got caught.
And well, there’s the reason I’m writing this. I slept with your wife. For years. And then I killed her and ate her. With barbecue sauce. Very tasty, if I may be so bold.
Anyway, that was what I wanted you to know.
Thanks again for being my friend all these years.
The end of the letter was splattered in blood.
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L.M. Stull on 03.26.2011
HA! This will forever be one of my all-time favorites. Probably says a lot about me. Love stories about secrets, especially demented ones. After all, don’t we all have things we don’t share with the world?