Confessions of a Time Traveling Serial Killer

I woke up to a knock at the door, and as the knock persisted I frustratedly uncovered myself, looking at my phone I saw an email from the publishing company, another rejection. Sitting up I hobbled myself to the door to see a box on the ground. It was covered in tape and on the address I glanced at my name, David... Picking it up I thought, Why would the Fed Ex guy knock on the door if he is just going to leave the package on the ground? 

Throwing the box on the couch, I returned to bed to finish my sleep. 

After laying in bed for another hour I finally got up of my own volition. 

After getting dressed, I walked to the box to see the full name, David Samuel Robertson? The writer?

I opened the box, my curiosity getting the better of me. It was a book manuscript, not very long looking at it. I also found a watch, the clock and calendar glowed. The book was only about seven chapters, and the title was interesting, Confessions of a Time Traveling Serial Killer. And because of that title, I read the book. The author David S Robertson had been my favorite writer since I was a kid and I would read his novels over the summer to win the summer reading program, I even got into writing myself because I wanted to be just like him. So I began to write stories, that...never...worked out...wait a minute. 

Holding the manuscript close I saw...my name, David John Keller...

This must be some joke, why...how am I the main character in a David Robertson murder mystery novel?

"This is no joke, David, you are the main character of my murder story..." 

I spun to see...David...

Eyes wide, I stood from my chair, "Who are you!?"

The man chuckled, "You might know me as the Author of this book, the man, the writer you've always wanted to become..."

"David Samuel Robertson..." My eyes scanned the man before me, he was much younger than the Author I had idolized, in fact, he looked slightly... No that's impossible. Chuckling to myself, "What is this time travel?"

The writer beamed, "You've read my works, you know my...mystery style is a little unorthodox."

"You tell your murder mysteries, from the perspective of the killers who commit the crimes." David said, "And is this how you do it, send the manuscript before killing your victims?" 

"Oh...no...David, I'm allowing my story hero to have the script to his first best seller. Once you and I have our little adventure, you will publish the novel under your own name of course." 

Gritting my teeth I punched the table beside him, "I'm not playing your sick game!"

"You will...because it is my game to play, the players choose their pieces, as writers choose their characters. You cannot resist David, the dice have been rolled, and the bell cannot be unrung. The path is mine to walk, so take it and RUN!" The writer leaped on me out of nowhere clasping his hands around his throat, locking his hands as David laughed maniacally. Fighting back I punched the man's face, as I struggled to breathe, everything was blurry and my vision went dark. 

Then there was light and a not-so-light slap on my cheek. David reluctantly opened his eyes to see a beautiful blonde woman crouched over him, Samantha.

Her hair cascaded down her head as she gazed at him, "What happened?"

Groaning as I sat up, scanning the room and seeing two police officers and Robert talking to them. The police think it's a break-in.

Eyes widening, "The manuscript!"

I ran to the table, and the manuscript was missing!

"What is it David," Samantha asked.

"The Manuscript...is...missing..." I said, looking through papers, before switching to the counter and being stopped by one of the cops.

"Son, are you looking for this?" The officer held up the manuscript.

Grabbing the manuscript I yanked the paper out of the cop's hand, "Thank you, sir."

Robert put his hand on my shoulder, "Sam found you on the ground and she called the cops, I came over when I heard the sirens next door."

I had to get through this, I needed to stop David! I need to stop those murders. "Uhhhh.. I fell, nobody broke in officer...." I grit my teeth, crap.

"Son, nobody mentioned a break-in."

"Right! well, I'm fine." My voice cracked momentarily

The officer grunted and left my home. After Robert let the officers out, thanking them for their time, he turned, "Alright, what the heck is going on, Dave?"

"Nothing is going on!" I said dodging the question.

Robert persisted, "Nuh uh, something happened, and you're going to do something, now you're going to tell me what's going on."

With a heavy sigh, I told them the truth, "This morning, I got this manuscript in the mail, and I saw my...well... our names in this book like we were characters in the story, and you'll never guess who wrote it..."

Samantha stepped forward, "Who?"

"David Sam Robertson."

Robert blinked, and ran to his apartment next door, running back with a newspaper, "Look!"

The front page of the newspaper said that David S Robertson had just committed suicide this morning. This is getting freaky.

Samantha took the manuscript from me, "Confessions of a Time Traveling Serial Killer, What kind of a title is that?"

"He...kind of...said...he's...a time traveling...serial killer" Biting my tongue as I realize how that sounds.

Robert smacked Samantha's arm, "I freaking knew it!"

Then the watch started blinking and then beeping. Samantha looked back, "Is that supposed to be doing that?"

Robert and I looked over as there was an explosion, and we were suddenly in 18th century England, in an ally way as Robert fell on a dead prostitute, A DEAD PROSTITUTE! Robert gaged, as he quickly jumped off of her. Samantha looked around as I still had the script in my hand, "Guys this is chapter 1, A Framed Ripper."

"That explains the prostitute," Robert said as he shivered.

There was a shadow down the way, I ran after the man and it was David, "David Keller, I see you accepted my invitation."

"I'm not accepting crap, Your stupid watch glitched, and now I'm stuck here, tell me how I can get home." Angry I yelled at the man, who I once idolized and now is my demise.

David chuckled, "You thought that you could run from the plot but instead you shall be the protagonist of this novel, I shall write."

"You already wrote the thing, I have it right here," I said holding up the manuscript.

"Don't spoil the ending, I haven't written it yet." The Writer said.

If I beat him at his game now I can stop all this from happening.

"You can't stop the events from transpiring David, and do you know why?"

"Why?"

"You never wondered why I sent the manuscript to you?"

Scoffing I replied, "I just figured you're a psychopath and you picked out a victim at random, maybe you wanted to torment one of your fans for no reason."

The writer leaned forward as if sharing an amazing secret, "David, I picked you for a purpose, for a reason, because, the hero must become the villain."

I stepped back now uncomfortable, "What are you saying?"

"I, young David, am you in the future, and you are me in my past." His grin was now full, ear to ear as the truth set in.

"No, No, No, there's no way, I would never..."

"The writer pens the character, but the clay does not form the potter." The writer said before disappearing into the night.