I had just received a note in the mail, a very shocking note.  I don’t know why someone would ever send me this type of note.  I am Jack Serendip, a normal guy.  I married Regina, also normal, and we had 5 normal kids:  Matthew, Mark,  Luke, John, and Esther. The note read:
“Hello, Jack Serendip. Your worst nightmare has just become a reality.  My name is Black Doom, and you will report to me within 24 hours at a soon-to-be specified location or else I will take your family’s life. Oh, and if you dare even think about calling the police or showing this note to someone, you lose your 24 hours and someone dies immediately.  The longer you avoid our meeting, the more death you will encounter, and the more you will suffer like you made me suffer.”
The note ended at ‘suffer’, where there was a big splotch of ink as if someone had snapped the pen tip when writing this.
I was rocked at the sudden realization that mine and my family’s lives were in danger!! What do I do?
“Honey, I’m home.” Regina said as she walked through the door.  She looked at me confused, and asked why I was staring at that note.
I answered nonchalantly, “It’s a letter saying that we have to report to jury duty.”
Regina reached for the paper and replied, “Let me see.” I yanked back, not wanting her to see it.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“Nothing,” I said nervously.
“Jack, let me see the paper.”
“Ok,” I said, as I swiftly switched it out with another paper in my pocket.  She read the promotion I had received from my boss earlier, and hugged me.
After she had left to go get the kids from school, I reread the paper, and began thinking of what to do about this scary threat. I finally decided that it had to be just a sick joke, and slipped it under the bed.
When Regina got home with the kids, the kids wanted to know what they were going to eat for supper.  Regina suggested that we get pizza delivered to celebrate my new promotion.
When the pizza guy got here, I gave him the money for the pizza, and he began to walk away.  I checked the pizza to make sure it was right, and found a note taped to the inside of the lid.  I grabbed it, stuffed it into my pocket, and yelled for the boy to come back.  He just went on as if he didn’t hear me.
I walked back into the house, and we sat down and ate the pizza.  As I was eating, I continued to ponder on what to do about these notes. It had to be a joke, I thought.
After dinner, I went to the bathroom to read the note. The note was written in jagged handwriting and read:
“I hoped you liked my little trick I played on you with the pizza boy.  The specified place is Grand Central Park, the very center. Come alone at 2:00 p.m. tomorrow.  Do not be late. Try nothing that will harm me or you will extremely regret it. Come there or face the suffering that I have so promised you.”
I was starting to get really uncomfortable about the situation.  Still, I decided not to go the “meeting”, because these notes is probable just a big joke.
At 3:00 the next day, I received a phone call saying that Aunt Angelica had just been horrifically killed, and she had multiple stab wounds.
I couldn’t believe what the police was saying.  This threat is for real.  Someone is out to make me suffer, a normal guy.  I went out, trying to put all this behind me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everybody I knew would be dead if I didn’t show myself to this ‘Black Doom’.
When I came back from the evening rush out in the Big Apple, I found, yet another note in front of the door. I picked it up and put it in my pocket.  Regina was home, and she wanted to know why I had been acting so strangely.  I decided that I had to tell her what was going on.
“This is why I have been acting so strangely,” I said, as I pulled the note out.  I opened it up, and we both read the new note. It read:
“So I see you didn’t show up for the meeting. Well, I guess you know now that this isn’t a joke.  This is suffering for you, because of the same suffering you dealt to me. Here’s a new location: 523 Cleveland Ave. at 3 p.m. tomorrow. Come alone or suffer the consequences.”
Regina screamed at me, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Stop, Regina,” I replied. “We can’t be arguing when there is such a major crisis that we have to deal with. Besides, it said not to show anyone, or there would be consequences.”
She calmed seeming to understand. The doorbell rang.  Regina and I went to go open, but when we did, there was no one there. We looked down, and saw another note on the ground. It read:
“I thought I told you not to show anyone Jack Serendip.  You will have to pay the price. Go around the corner, but before you do, I just wanted to let you know that the meeting place and time have been changed to 327 Oak Road, the coffee shop, same time. Now see your suffering: go around the corner.”
Regina and I walked around the corner, and there lay Luke, dead on the concrete in a puddle of blood. Regina screamed, “My baby, my baby.” We both mourned the death of Luke that day, but we both decided that I had better meet this Black Doom before anything else happened.
The following day, I went to the coffee shop, and sure enough, a man motioned for me to come over to his car. I did.  A man wearing a black cloak said very authoritatively, “Get in, or I will shoot you here on the spot.”
I got in. I couldn’t see “Black Doom’s” face, but it was very thin. He drove me to a huge apple. He pressed a button and part of the stand of the apple opened up. He drove in, and told me to get out.
When I got out of his car, I looked around the room, and saw several puppets, creepy ones, crafted in my own likeness, all filled with needles.
“Sit over here,” he said pointing to a chair with handcuffs, and a screen in front of it.
“I want you to see death, and suffer like I suffered.” he said with a grin. He strapped me in with the handcuffs. I did not try to revolt, because I knew that something terrible might happen to my family, and that would be a tragedy.
He rolled a film.  He was showing me the film of my son dying. It showed Luke going from class to class at school, and then getting snatched, by “Black Doom”, and he made me watch his gory death.  I watched every knife, heard every scream, and felt my son’s pain in my own heart.
I became angry, and frustratedly tried to get out of the handcuffs. Black Doom just laughed evilly. My own anger got me free of the handcuffs. I charged for Black Doom, then, with one quick glimpse of my brother’s face, I stopped.
“Brother, why would you do this?” I said.
“What are you talking about? I am not your brother.” He said.
I charged again and ripped off his cloak.  My brother’s face, and his dirty deed was shown.  My own brother had killed my aunt, and my son.
“Why?” I screamed.
“I have told you already, and I will tell you again, I am making you suffer, because you made me suffer.”  He continued on. “Remember, when we were younger; it was ALL about you wasn’t it?  You never gave me mom and dad's attention, and anyone else for that matter.  You made it all about you, and now you will pay.” He charged at me with a knife, and I took him down. I put his hands behind his back.
“It’s still about you, isn’t it?” he yelled. I didn’t answer.
“Answer me!” he yelled again.
“How could you think that?” I said.
“Think that? I know that for a fact. You stole all the attention, blamed all the bad things on me, but yet I loved you.  I should have killed you from the start.” he said harshly. He got out.
“There is only enough room for one Serendip, and I am him.” he said crazily. He charged at me, and we fought. I finally got him to the ground. He punched me in the face.
“Don’t make me kill you, brother.  Please, stop this madness.” I said. He punched me again in the face.  I had to make a deathening choice: kill or be killed.
I stabbed the knife I had in my hand through his heart, crying when I did.  He lay there, on the ground, cold, breathless, dead.  I had killed my brother.
I was free from the torment, but locked in an inescapable room of remembering what I did to my brother.  I walked out, got in his car, and rode home.  My wife hugged me tightly, when I got there.  I told her what happened and she tried to soothe me. She went and got the kids out from school.  We mourned over Luke, but not only did I mourn over my dead son, but also my fallen brother.