At Least We Weren't The Cursed Child
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At Least We Weren't The Cursed Child

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 Forest Hills Center for the Mentally Disabled

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komaeda
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komaeda


Posts : 1839
Join date : 2010-05-09
Location : 2006

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PostSubject: Forest Hills Center for the Mentally Disabled   Forest Hills Center for the Mentally Disabled Icon_minitimeSat Jun 04, 2011 9:47 pm

(Alternate timeline! Don't reply IC here unless you REALLY need to.)

May 27, 2000

They say I ought to keep a journal. So, I shall.

I awoke this morning at precisely 7:21. One minute after the alarm. In my shame, I joined my slimy peers in our hygenic duties, then in our morning meal. A poorly-poached egg and a slice of rather dry toast, accompanied by my daily regimen of vitamins and stabilizers. We are led like the sheep we are into the "big room" as they call it. A large room, yes, with a television set at one end and a group of tables on the other. I ask permission (as every day) to be excused to the library, and, of course, am permitted. The library is rather cramped, and, with the solitude comes unintentional emphasis on the noisy hum of the flourescent lights overhead.
That hum irks me. I can't quite put a finger on why.
Nothing else of interest.
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komaeda
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komaeda


Posts : 1839
Join date : 2010-05-09
Location : 2006

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PostSubject: Re: Forest Hills Center for the Mentally Disabled   Forest Hills Center for the Mentally Disabled Icon_minitimeThu Jun 16, 2011 9:49 pm

May 29th, 2000

I had a very peculiar dream last night. There I was, loitering about this hallway which, judging by the feel and appearance of it, I reason was built of pure mica or some mineral of the like. I stood beside a window, gazing out across the silver plain of the lake when suddenly, I was accosted by this white-haired vixen of a very young age -- far too young to be so carnally interested in me as she was. "These bones are mine," she whispers, grasping at my limbs. "These bones are mine." I ask her to kindly release me, but she refuses. Rosensteel appears more beautiful than she ever could've hoped to be. I allow her to grasp, grasp at whatever she desires. Then, the hallway begins to cleave, cleave down into flakes so small, and the flakes begin to slice into my flesh. I feel an indescribable pain in my eye sockets, in my nostrils, in my throat. I wake.

I accidentally choked on an orange seed this morning with breakfast. It was unpleasant.

Nothing else.
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