THE SECRET OF DEATH

PROLOG

The stuffy atmosphere could be felt by anyone when they saw this person. This person is just a teenage girl, she is currently sitting on a bench that is old. This can be concluded through the dust attached to the body of the bench. The color that should have been light brown now doesn't look like that anymore. Maybe if someone has a body weighing over 50kg, without thinking about the length of the chair it will collapse.

The girl was covered in cold sweat. Her face could not be seen because her long hair covered it. The girl's hair was brownish in color with a white bandage that was increasingly sagging. She kept looking down as if she saw something right in his lap.

Those little white fingers were playing with something, a pen. The pen was completely black.

The room he was in was very stuffy with a musty smell everywhere. A room made of piles of old stones covered with cobwebs and decorated with several unused objects.

"Hahaha..." the girl's voice sounded low and shrill. Anyone who heard this voice would feel goosebumps running down their spines even though they were wearing a thick coat. The room's lights slowly swayed to make the girl visible for a few moments and some moments not seen. A few minutes later the squeaky laughter turned into a worried cry of a teenage girl, "hikss..hikss..hikss.." that's how it was repeated. Like something played on the girl's emotions. Still in the same position, she looked down and played with the black pen on his lap.

*****

"Paper?" repeated the old man. "Me?" pointed at himself. "Why me?"

"Because you're the only one with a pen here!" Violin replied flatly while looking at the man's trouser pocket.

The old man once again trembled, he was indeed forgetful. But he was pretty sure that he had absolutely no pen to carry at this time. "You're wrong. I have no pen at all!" while raising his hand a sign that he has nothing to do with pens.

The violin still looked at the old man's pocket, "in your pocket!"

The old man's hair was bristling again. He felt his outer pocket, really he was very surprised after he found out that there really was a pen in his pocket. He didn't even remember when he put the pen in his pocket.

"Sir.. Help me!" Violin said again with the same tone, the same expression, but her eyes slowly filled with tears.

For a moment the old man gave various questions in his mind. Believing that this is just a dream, a dream that will come to an end. A dream that occurs because he is sleeping, he may just need to close his eyes and wait for his wife to wake him up. Unfortunately, it's all real.

Without engineering and re-engineering. Without any mischievous hands working on it.

He felt like he wanted to scream but his throat felt so tight. To be honest he really wanted to leave that weird girl alone but what guts did he have when his hand slowly reached for the pen in his pocket. He managed to pull out the pen. The pen is pitch black and has a slender body.

Violin then lifted the dull paper. The Violin omen ordered the old man to sign it. "Quick, sir!"

"Here!" ordered the old man boldly. He uncapped the pen slowly and directed it to the signing section. "But, after I sign this, you must return to the dormitory!"

Violin did not answer. He just kept looking at the old man.

The old man exhaled and prepared to sign the paper. He suddenly froze as the pen spewed its contents onto the paper. Meanwhile, Violin was still looking at the old man. "M...m...m me!! Really sorry!" the old man regretted when he saw the statement paper covered with black ink. The man's old hand quickly dropped the pen to the ground. "You..You..." pointed the old man.

"You left your pen, sir!" said Violin weakly. "You don't leave your pen! Because, everyone will blame me again!"

The old man walked backwards as Violin's face slowly turned sinister. The green eyes were no longer visible. His eyes had now changed color to pitch black to the point where the whites were invisible. "Sir... I'll give you back your pen!" Violin handed him the pen with slow but agile steps. Making the old man fall to his knees. His sweaty face had made him look unrefreshed and paled, and you could see from the corners of his eyes there were tears of fear. "Go away!! Go!!" shouted the old man as best he could.

"Ha..ha..ha... he will be sad sir, if you leave him.! Bring it..!!" Violin's laughter sent chills down the old man's face.

"Do not bother me!" he asked. "God help me!!" he said shaking. The old man closed his eyes and for a moment he did not hear the shrill laughter. The old man slowly opened his eyes and looked around there was no sign of the violin. The old man stood awake, double-checking his pockets hoping that the pen was no longer in his pocket. He can now breathe easy. But,...

"You... forgot your pen sir!" said the tense violin that suddenly fell from above the old man and crushed him.

The old man fell down again and tried to run from Violin the scary face. "Go away!" he held Violin's hands that tried to stab him with the pen earlier.

"But, I have to return it. Hihihih.." Violin said. "I have to return it, and I am not the culprit." Weak violin strings.

"AAAAAAAA...."

*****

In the morning, Mr. Carles the old man was found in a tragic condition. He was found with 5 stab wounds in his chest. His eyes looked up and his left hand was clenched into a fist while his right hand left only his index fingers that were not clenched as if pointing something in that direction.

*****