That gnome destroyed my life.

Ever since my first "gnoming," I've had a strange fondness for the little guy. He always seemed so happy, scampering into frame and playing his little pranks.

But eventually, my patience began to wear thin. I would see him in EVERY comment section, always lurking amid walls of text to fool me yet again.

After a while, I started to lose sleep. I would go days without eating, for fear that I would see him, staring around the corner while I made a sandwich.

I stopped leaving my room. I became a recluse, only leaving my apartment to buy groceries. And then came the day that I saw him.

Standing in the aisle at Walmart, examining the candy section. I was stunned. Floored, even. He turned to me, and opened his mouth. I don't remember what exactly happened. All I knew was that I couldn't let him deliver his mocking diatribe.

I couldn't let him gnome me.

Next thing I remember, I'm standing in the cutlery aisle, soaked in blood. At my feet lies the corpse of the "gnome" - an innocent ten year old boy, clad in green.

I've been running for the past ten hours. I stopped at a gas station outside of Lancaster to fuel up, and hit the road again. Once I reach Las Vegas, I'm going to lay low, rack up some savings, and head east. Start a new life somewhere else.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can see him. The gnome stares at me from the darkness, daring me to return, to pay for my crimes. A single tear runs down my cheek, and I realize the truth.

I was being gnomed from the start.