What happens when you take a normal, intelligent, seventeen-year-old guy with a slight degree of insomnia, and tell him that he hold lives in his hands?  You really fuck him up, that's what happens.
 
Walter had never done anything to hurt anyone, yet there were people that wanted him dead.  The fact that he existed and might pose as a threat to him was enough.  His mother told him to get the mail one day, and that is when it all started.
Messily scrawled on the envelope was:
Walter
705 Embren Ave.
Mirkt, TX 73804
The writing was dark crimson, and was flaking off.  He decided it was best to keep this to himself.  He shoved the letter in his pocket.
He handed the rest of the mail to his mother, and then went to his room, where he turned on Metallica’s ‘Call of Ktulu,’ subconsciously thinking that it fit the mood well.
THIS LETTER WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE ONE DAY
It was written in the same flaky crimson and the same messy hand as the envelope it came in.
What the hell is going in?
The contents seriously disturbed Walter.

Four hours later, while watching the news, he learned that a shooting had happened four streets down.  Only one body was recovered, and it had an odd symbol etched into its hand.
Was it supposed to happen here?
He absent-mindedly touched the letter in his pocket.  His mother noticed.
“What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“That in your pocket.”
“It’s got a hole in it.  I didn’t realize that I was touching it.  Sorry.”
 “It’s no wonder with the shape those jeans are in.”
She appeared to stop there, but she assumed that he was hiding drugs in his pocket.
Walter ate dinner, and then went back to his room, and read the H.P. Lovecraft story his friend had lent him.  He was reading ‘Whisperer in the Darkness.’  By the end of it, he was so scared that he was shaking.  Adrenaline was coursing through his body.  When it stopped, Walter was exhausted, and went to sleep.
Around 2:00, he woke up, and felt something cold against his forehead.  He touched it, and then something smacked his face.
“Don’t move, Walter.”
Fuck, he’s got a gun.  Where’s that letter? He was very relieved once he realized that it had only fallen out of his pocket.
“What do you know about your fate?”
“I got a letter.”
“Give it to me.”
The man took the letter, and then turned on the light.  Blood was pouring out of the letters.  The man screamed in agony once he realized that it was his blood that was pouring out of the paper.
Once the man was fully drained of blood, it formed into letters on the ground.
WALTER’S
FIRST
KILL
His mother rushed into his room, and screamed when she saw the body.
“What did you do.  Were you high when you killed him?”
“What?  I’m not on drugs,” then he made the connection as to why his mother would think that.  His mother bent over to pick up the blood-covered letter, and then Walter yelled, “No!  Don’t touch that, it’s how that man died.
“Someone is trying to kill me, so I’m leaving.”  Walter got dressed quickly, grabbed his keys and the letter, got in his car, and drove away.
After he got out of town, he pulled over to the side of the road, and looked at the letter that changed his life.  It was blank.
As if in answer to his question, words appeared on the paper.  He could feel that he was sacrificing his own blood in order to appease his curiosity.
It only saves you once.
A cop pulled over, got out of his car, and approached Walter.  “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yeah, I’m heading home right now, and I just had to rest for a second.”
“You’re not all right, Walter.”
“Shit!” Walter screamed as he got into his car and drove away.
“Fuck, Walter, I’m only trying to help.” The officer got in his own car and drove after him, siren blaring.
The cop came up right behind Walter, and Walter’s car just shut down.  Walter got out, and went to the cop’s window, and shouted, “Why do you want to kill me?”
“I don’t.  Our cult is trying to stop the cult of Hypnos, god of sleep, from wreaking havoc.  We’ve been fighting for awhile, and we know there’s someone who is the key to victory for us.”
There was a gunshot, and a bullet came through the windshield of the police car, and hit the officer in the chest.  The next shot killed Walter.
“I pray to Bast that you weren’t the one we were looking for,” the cop said, as he bled to death.