I Wish I Hadn't Read Her Diary - a short story by Mike Jackson

I Wish I Hadn’t Read Her Diary

Magdalene was the most beautiful women I’d ever met.

She’d appeared in my life just a week ago. In spite of spending most of the week talking to one another, I realised I knew nothing about her except her name. When I mentioned this she smiled and invited me to her flat to find out more. She had that mysterious look on her face and a wicked grin which held the promise of a night to remember.

So here I am, sat in her flat with a glass of beer in my hand watching her as she prepares a meal. She looks even more ravishing than usual and, if I’m honest, a little threatening. I keep getting this image of a poor fly caught in a delectable spider’s web.

“Stop looking at me with those lustful eyes,” she whispers as she leans across and drops a book on the table in front of me. “You said you wanted to know more about me, have a read of this. It’s my diary, all you need to know is in there.”

This was crazy. Most women I knew wouldn’t have let me anywhere near their diary.

I picked up the red, leather-bound book and started reading,

My Earthly name is Magdalene. I am in fact an Information Gathering Android from the planet Volgan 09. I have been sent here to gather details about the human race .’

She was obviously winding me up. I smiled and was about to make some sort of wise remark when I noticed something disturbing. The writing in the diary had vanished and in its place was a pair of eyes staring at me.

My immediate instinct was to drop the book but I couldn’t. The more I attempted to let go the more it appeared to be glued to my fingers. I tried to look away and call  Magdalene but I couldn’t move. It was as if the eyes in the diary had locked on to mine and I was transfixed. They seemed to be burrowing into the very depths of my mind.

Then the words began to appear on the page. As I read them it slowly dawned on me that they were my words. Everything I had said, or imagined, or thought that day was being transcribed on to the page.

I was vaguely aware of Magdalene standing by the side of me.

“It will soon be over darling,” she whispered, “My diary is collecting all your memories, ideas, dreams, thoughts, everything. I told you it was going to be an exciting evening. Very soon the writing will slow down, which will tell me your mind is almost empty. Once the last full stop is added to the page you will cease to exist.”


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