32Sam sat alone in his room staring at a piece of paper that had the number "32" written on it. Just 32. Nothing else. He thought it must have flown into his room by accident, so he just ignored it. At school the next day, at Sam's desk, he found a corner of a ripped book that said the page number. 32. He found this strange, and thought it was just a stupid prank by some of his friends. After school, he confronted his friends about the mysterious pages. They said they had nothing to do with it; Sam, once again, thought of it as just a small incident.
Once at home, eating his favorite meal, chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes, his dog had come up to him begging for some of his food. Sam reluctantly cut a small piece of chicken for the dog and gave it to him. As the dog was eating the juicy chicken nugget, Sam found a dirty piece of cardboard attached to his collar.
"Hmm," He though "How did that get on your collar, boy?" Sam took the piece of cardboard off of the collar and stared blankly at it as the number 32 was written on it with some kind of red substance.
"Blood." He thought. At this point he was getting pretty tripped up. He didn't know who was pulling this prank, but it's getting quite ridiculous at this point. Lying down in his bed, the bloody cardboard kept chewing at him. "Who could be doing this? And why??" Sam left for the doctor's office the next day for his yearly checkup. Five minutes after he had gotten there, one of the nurses called him back. He got on the scale and did all of the things that you would usually do before for a checkup. While Sam was waiting for the doctor to arrive, he found some children's books that he could read to kill some time.
"Ok. Ok this has just have to be your imagination." The doctor came threw the door and asked Sam how he was. "I'm ok." They went threw all of the usual stuff. The appointment came to an end, and he ended up having to get 32 shots.
"That's it." He thought. "How come this number keeps following me around everywhere I go?? This can't be a prank. It can't." Just as Sam was walking home thinking about what had happened for the past few days, a truck came screeching to a halt. But it was too late. The truck had hit Sam, hard, and it killed him instantly. The police came to investigate, and as one of the men were studying the poor boy's body, he found something in his pocket. A paper with the number 33 written on it.