Part 1 - The Death Threat

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On my computer screen, a PM (Private Message) pops up.

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LTurner75:

There is no way you can treat my daughter like that!!

No way! I demand you come here in two hours,

or I swear on her mother's soul that I will outright murder you!

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Astonished, I stare at my laptop with eyes wide open. Hundreds of question marks pop up in my mind.

Who's this guy? What did I do ? What the hell is he talking about? Who's his daughter? And what did I do to her? Why does he want to murder me? Over what ? Man, I thought WritersHaven was a very friendly place! Now all of a sudden, someone I don't even know, will spend his life tracking me down and killing me ?! What kind of prank is this?

Stifling my fears, I type a reply with trembling fingers.

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philpw99:

Sorry sir, but what did I do?

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LTurner75:

Bullshit! You know what you did!

Come to this address right now!

1275 York Ave. 9th Floor. Rebecca Turner.

New York, NY

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philpw99:

Eh...How do you know I am living in New York?

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LTurner75:

It's in your profile, STUPID!

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Oh, yeah, that's right. How could I forget? Man, I thought putting my location there was a good thing, maybe I could get some local writers as friends, but right now it's obviously a bad move.

Clicking on my head icon, I quickly changed the "city" in my profile to "Polis" in a millisecond.

Yeah, this cannot happen again. WritersHaven has many good writers, but there are always some freaks lurking around on every website!

Then I notice the address is kinda familiar. Did I see this address before? I open an online map and type in the address. The answer cannot be more direct.

"I am coming right away, sir." I send this mysterious angry guy a message. He might be crazy, but his homicidal intention must have a good reason. I trust that place.

Outside, wind is blowing the few remaining leaves on trees. Grabbing a coat, I hastily walk out of my tiny home and head to the nearest subway station. The autumn of New York is cold, but it cannot be compared to the chill I just felt down through my spine...

Hold on, hold on... You might ask. What the hell is this all about? Well, to perfectly explain it, I have to restart the story a few months earlier. Hope you don't mind those flashback clichés.

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Don't remember exactly when it started. WritersHaven became my daily sanctuary. I visited the friendly community every hour or so. There were lots of online writers just like me hanging out there, talking about anything and everything.

My Dear Reader RebeccaWhere stories live. Discover now