My name is Connor Frietzsche, and the following is a short collection of some of my writing! I hope that you can find some sort of enjoyment reading the three pieces on this page and if not at least take comfort knowing that I enjoyed writing them. Happy reading!

Written by: Connor Frietzsche

Rain fell incessantly around the quiet estate. Low rumbling thunder broke the sound of rain and wind falling the on the dirt road leading to the large looming house. A darkness surrounded the estate due to the downed power line down the street. Through a fogged window the ignition of a match could be seen.

January 12th, 2016. 7:43 PM

Dear Diary,

I almost forgot I had this old journal. It’s really coming down out there, probably the biggest thunderstorm I’ve ever been in recently. I haven't seen any lightning yet though. I plan to take this diary home with me whenever it stops raining. So many nice memories recorded in it.

January 12th, 2016. 8:04 PM

Dear Diary,

The power went out a few minutes ago. I had the hardest time finding any matches or candles. This comes of no shock knowing what an unorganized man my grandfather was. I had the weirdest feeling as I lit the candle. I was standing at one of the windows looking out into the trees in front of the house and I could have sworn something was watching me. Probably just some animal hiding from the rain.

January 12th, 2016. 8:27 PM

Dear Diary,

I made a fire and some dinner cause it looks like I’ll be spending the night here. It doesn’t look like the storm will pass anytime soon. I tried to call Jenny but the telephones seem to be down too. This house feels so big without anyone else in it.

January 12th, 2016. 9:03 PM

Dear Diary,

I made a bed in the guest room I used to stay in when we visited when I was young. The power is still out. I am worried about leaving an open flame while I sleep. Goodnight Diary.

January 12th, 2016. 11:13 PM

Dear Diary,

I was woken by the sound of footsteps in the hall. After long investigation I found nothing. It must be the creaky old floorboards warping from the change in temperature. While I was wondering I passed by Kyle’s old room. It brought back to many sad emotions. It helps knowing he was put to rest out back next to grandpa. He always loved it here.

January 12th, 2016. 11:25 PM

Dear Diary,

Just after getting back into bed I could’ve sworn I heard a door shut somewhere in the house. The storm is getting heavier. If it lets up tomorrow I hope to make a few trips home to start bringing stuff back. Rain still poured from the skies as the morning sun peaked over the trees. Torn up roots and trunks fell scattered across the land surrounding the estate. Two graves stood behind the great house. The headstone labeled “Kyle” held dirt that was freshly overturned.

January 13th, 2016. 8:04 AM

Dear Diary,

The storm still thunders on. I am going to load up the car and try to make at least one trip back to drop off some stuff. Hopefully the power is on back home.

January 13th, 2016. 7:22 PM

Dear Diary,

I don’t think I have ever been in a storm like this before. It felt like it got dark pretty early today. I guess it is just that time of year. I managed to move a decent amount of grandpa’s things out of the house today. I asked Jenny if she wanted to bring the kids up to spend the night. She said no. I guess I’ll be spending another night here by myself.

January 13th, 2016. 8:04 PM

Dear Diary,

I just realized it would’ve been Kyle’s birthday today. I made his favorite soup for dinner. It might seem silly but I brought a bowl of it out to his grave. The dirt seemed different. Like maybe an animal was trying to dig it up. Thinking of his death brings up bad memories.

January 13th, 2016. 8:44 PM

Dear Diary,

Jenny called to check how I was doing. The connection was a little spotty because of the storm. I told her about the soup and Kyle’s grave. She has always been so supportive. While I was on the phone I heard the same footsteps as last night. Jenny tells me I’m just imagining things. She must be right.

January 13th, 2016. 9:03 PM

Dear Diary,

I went out to get the bowl. For a second I thought someone had stolen it. I found it over by the edge of the woods. I had that feeling again. The one of being watched. I had to hurry back inside to get out of the rain.

January 13th, 2016. 9:45 PM

Dear Diary,

The thunder was so loud it made me jump. I don’t feel so alone. I think I am going to make a cake in Kyle’s honor.

January 13th, 2016. 10:15 PM

Dear Diary,

Out of nowhere the rain turned into a gentle drizzle. It felt so quiet until I heard the squeaking. The wind blew open the back door at some point. The feeling of being watched hasn’t gone away.

January 14th, 2016. 12:00 AM

Dear Diary,

I can’t sleep. The storm kicked back up to a massive down pour. It’s officially my birthday! I’m twenty eight. That means Kyle would have been twenty-five yesterday. Time passes so fast. It is hard to believe that 18 years ago I found Kyle dead in the woods. I think it was a mistake to stay here again. I thought it would bring me closer to my lost brother. It only brings back the pain of finding his bloody corpse.

January 14th, 2016. 4:53 AM

Dear Diary,

I got out of bed for a glass of water. As I passed by the window looking into the back I saw a man standing over Kyle’s tombstone in the rain. It has to be the man that killed him. What kind of man stabs a child and leaves him to die in the forest then comes to visit his grave 18 years later?

The back door of the house burst opened as a man in his late 20s stepped out into the pouring rain wielding a shotgun and a flashlight. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand!” He screamed at the silhouetted man standing over the small tombstone in front of him. “Not only are you trespassing, but you are disgracing my little brother grave! Leave my property now or I will gun you down where you stand!” The man standing over the grave slowly turned to reveal his face. Standing shorter by a little bit this man resembled the one standing pointing a shotgun at him, only younger a few years. “K-k-yle?” The first man muttered as he squeezed the trigger. A thunderous roar echoed through the forest as the first man dropped the gun as he watched the second man fall to his knees. The second man fell flat as blood seeped into the earth around him.

January 14th, 2016. 5:01 AM

Dear Diary,

I just killed a man. He looked exactly like me. He was everything I thought Kyle would be at this age. I must have woken everyone in a 3 mile radius up. I am shaking I don’t what to do… As the man furiously scribbled into a small journal, water still dripping from his body the creak of an old door could be heard from the other side of the house. The back door just opened. I locked it as I hurried in though. How could it be open. Faint footsteps could be heard echoing and squeaking through the old house.

January 14th, 2016. 5:04 AM

Dear Diary,

Someone is in the house. I am hiding in an old closet that I used to hide with Kyle from grandfather when he was angry. I can hear someone walking around. I am so scared. Please if anyone ever finds this call 580-483-9338 and ask for Jenny. My name is Ma…

The man in the closet stopped writing as the door in front of him opened. There in front of him stood the man he had just shot, intestines hanging from his stomach and blood dripping from the massive wound. He held a candle and a box of matches. “Thanks for the soup big brother.” The door slammed shut. The man inside the closet heard the outside lock turn into position, the lighting of a match, and listened to the sounds of the storm as fire began to engulf the house.

Rain fell incessantly around the quiet estate. Low rumbling thunder broke the sound of rain and wind falling the on the dirt road leading to the large looming house. A darkness surrounded the estate due to the downed power line down the street. Through a fogged window the ignition of a match could be seen.

End

This story was very simply inspired by a streak of stormy weather that we had been having in the Mountain View/Los Altos area. Along with that I had just gotten into reading short stories from authors like H.P. Lovecraft and others in the horror genre.

This short story was a risk to say the least. It was the first piece of writing I had done in the horror genre and I set out to write it three hours before the assignment was due. (To clarify, I had written another story that was much worse and not very interesting so I hadn't intended to turn this one in, but ended up being much more proud of it than the original piece I wrote for the assignment.) I also decided to adapt the journal entry style that I used in the story. This proved to be difficult because it was jumping around first and third person and sometimes would get kind of confusing, something that I hope to improve on as I continue writing stories.

The inspiration behind this piece   was a sort of challenge I had               recieved from my english teacher       Mr. Greco. He encouraged me to         move away from my comfort zone     and write about something I was         less familiar with.

In this poem I got to work with       some people who had actually had     a child or become pregnant during     their time in high school. This was     an extremily eye opening                     experience and one I would not         have been able create this poem         without.

This poem is one of the most personally meaningful pieces of writing I have ever created. This is because earlier this year one of my close friends came to me and poured his heart out to me about a really rough patch he was going through. I really wanted to create something that could bring people together who have had similar experiences to him. Although the poem is focused on negative things I think that it works incredibly well to show people who have not gone through what my friend and millions of people around the world are going through what it is like to live with depression.

This poem really allowed me to grow as an artist in a number of ways. The biggest I think being that it allowed me to take a sort of narrative arc that was presented to me by my friend and turn it into my own poetic version. It really made me push the boundaries of my creativity abd the end result was something that I am incredibly proud of and hopefully my friend is too.