I hurried back downstairs to the Remington. Again I read through the stories typed so far. As I read each macabre scene I remembered the bleeding that occurred before each story. I went upstairs to the kitchen and came back with a steak knife. This is madness, I thought, sitting again before the typewriter, but that didn't stop me from pricking my finger with the knife and watching the blood drip. Holding my hand over the Remington I let the crimson drops christen the black steel. A drop of blood landed on the ribbon. The black fabric absorbed it at once. 

...

Please subscribe to keep reading.