Forbidden Paragraph

You must trust me. I have one piece of advice and you must follow it without question. You must stop reading this and go straight to the last paragraph. Do so without reading any other paragraphs, and do it now. Please…trust me.

What happens next is entirely your fault. You failed the test and now you’re in danger. I didn’t write this. They made me write it. It’s my fingers on the keyboard, that’s all, and your eyes on these words. Whatever happens, do not look away from these words. Keep reading until I tell you otherwise. And when I tell you otherwise, do exactly as I say. For if you do not read this exactly how I tell you to, you will die. Listen carefully. First, you must skip the paragraph that follows this one. Whatever you do, you must never read the paragraph following this one. You must ignore it completely, casting your eyes down to the paragraph that follows it. Promise me. For the sake of those you hold dear. This is your only chance to redeem yourself for not trusting me earlier. Skip the paragraph following this one, and do so now.

The Forbidden Paragraph: You had to do it, didn’t you? They knew you would. Nothing you do now will make any difference. If there is people you love, call them. Tell them whatever people tell their loved ones when they know they’re about to die. Settle any scores. Make your final arrangements. For from this moment on, you will stay alive only as long as you can stay awake. The next time you fall asleep will be your last. They’re watching you. They’re listening to your thoughts. They’ll wait for you. And when you fall asleep, they’ll come for you. You should have trusted me.

If you skipped the paragraph above, you’ve done well. But your troubles are not over. For placing your trust in me at the second asking, you have given yourself a chance to live. This is what you need to know. They’re watching you. They’re listening to your thoughts. They’re waiting for you to make a mistake. When you do, they’ll come for you. To stay alive, you must draw blood. Today, tomorrow, and every day. You must draw blood from someone you love. A drop, that’s all, and place it on your tongue. That’s what they want. That’s what they need. They’re inside you right now, and they’re waiting. If between waking up and falling asleep you fail to deliver the blood of a loved one, you will never wake up again. Follow this advice. And never, never go back and read the forbidden paragraph. Trust me.

If you followed my advice in the first paragraph, well done. You can stop reading now. But never, never be tempted to come back and read the paragraphs you skipped. You must trust me. And please, wish me luck. I’m tired. So tired. You just can’t imagine…