The dagger dripped with fresh blood, as it lay gripped in Henry’s hand. How had it gotten there? He was looking around and noticed that his best friends Susan and Eddy where both dead. Had he killed them? Henry’s head was swimming in confusion. Where was he and how come he couldn’t remember anything? He wanted to run for his life. He valued all existence, yet here he was responsible for the death of two people he cared for. They were a close knit group who were known for doing a lot of research together about an assortment of strange things, but how had things ended like this?

Then suddenly he was standing holding a book entitled “The Book Of Id. It hadn’t happened, and hence it wasn’t real, for there were both of his friends sitting on their chairs like nothing was wrong. He glanced at his watch it was 12:49 AM, the first day of the year. The trio always got together to read books like in a repertoire on the first day of the month.

He looked down again at the book and realized that warning he had read, “Reader becomes involved in the story” at the top of the page was all too bona fide. The first story was of "Jack the Ripper" of a possible concept that might of happened, had someone tried to confront such a man.

Another quick glance at the book again and realization became more apparent. As the story had progress suddenly all around him had been the streets of London and that he and his friends had been dressed as during the time of Jack the Ripper. It had seemed so real even though he was still in the quiet little attic of his parent’s house. The walls were only partly finished off to resemble a room minus windows. The beams on the ceiling were all too familiar to the trio of friends. The thoughts happened so quick that Henry’s friends never realized all that had happened in his mind’s eye. Henry realized also that only the reader would be affected also became quick clear to him. He wasn’t sure how to tell his friends what would happen. Should he even mention or try an explanation of how a book could perform such a skill?

“Henry are you all right?” Asked Susan.

“Yap, I guess so.” He was lying. One minute he was reading a story, and the next he was Jack the Ripper. And his friends were trying to stop him. So he had killed them, then to find out it was all-unreal. Sure he was fine to a point.

A smile slid across Henry’s face along with an almost evil feeling coursing thru his being. By not warning them thus causing their first time to be tainted with preconceived information, would give them a fresh perspective. At least that’s what he told himself, and that his desire was for them to both understand how real it could be.

“The Book of Id” was a book designed to delve into the mysteries of the mind and the subconscious. What better to way for all them to understand first hand without a warning he told himself? He wanted his friends not to give preconceived tainted reports to the group when they all had read at least one story for themselves. What a feeling of connection he had felt. He felt like he had done just as the story was written.

As Susan Got up to read he knew that she would end up feeling the story she read from in the book. He had glanced at the list of stories. There were twelve in the first section. He causally handed the book to Susan. She took the book without reservations never realizing the concerned she should have.

He knew it would be an engaging night, one none of them would disregard soon. He glanced at his watch plenty of time the night was young. He had only read the first story, two more at least to go tonight. As Susan cleared her throat and began to read, he seated himself next to Eddy. Susan began in a slow at first monotone sounding voice. Then gained suddenly a clearer projected sound, "…The…Tale of Lizzie Borden, and the bodies they didn't find....”