The Diary ~ A first person creepy pasta (part 3)

[Archive log #3] 

Archivist: Graham [redacted] 

As the fourth day creeps closer, I'm overcome by a sense of foreboding. It's a gnawing fear that something dreadful is looming on the horizon. The day began like any other, with the monotonous rhythm of cleaning and organizing, but then it happened... that same chilling sensation from yesterday returned.  

Last night's argument with my wife lingered in the air, an unresolved tension that seemed to seep into every corner of the Library. It was trivial, really, though something about it made me forget to call the AC repairman, this ignited a fury within me. Before I knew it, I was smashing chairs in a fit of rage.  

Throughout the day, an inexplicable anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. I needed an outlet, a distraction from the mounting frustration. That's when I turned to the diary. 

Opening the ornate book, I was greeted by new stains marring its once pristine pages. Were they truly new, or had I simply failed to notice them before? I pushed the thought aside as I delved into the entries. 

What I found within chilled me to the core. The diary's mysterious author recounted a day that should have been filled with tranquility spent with their son. But instead, it spiraled into chaos, into the first-ever argument between father and son. The details were gruesome, vividly describing how the argument culminated in tragedy— the father striking the poor boy with a car. 

 A shiver ran down my spine as I read, unable to shake the feeling of dread creeping over me. This couldn't be real, it had to be the twisted creation of someone's depraved imagination. The notion that anger could drive someone to commit such heinous acts was unfathomable. It was a nightmare, a nightmare that I desperately wanted to wake up from. 

With trembling hands, I closed the diary, unable to bear another moment immersed in its horrors. Enough for one day, I thought, hastily gathering my belongings. I needed to escape, to distance myself from the darkness that seemed to be closing in around me. As I leave, I make a mental note to call the repairman as soon as I get home, a small semblance of normalcy amidst the growing chaos.