

GoneShe lies on the floor. Her body twists and writes in agonizing torture. The only thing keeping her from slipping away into the cold, black nothingness was a small ray of blue light shining from her computer. Was there anyone to help her? Was there anyone to care for her wretched, misshapen form sprawled across the carpet? Was there anyone to help her wake from her delusional dreams of unattainable refuge and asylum? Was there anyone to love her? She reached out in hopes something was there. A person, a thing, something materialistic to bring her back to the world she knew; the existence. Only air and blackness greeted her hand as it slowly reGone


Introduction "Can anyone tell me the relationship these two numbers have?" Mrs. Harrett's kind voice asked, searching the small, packed room. A few hands shot in the air. A cascade of dirty, tattered sleeves filled the light atmosphere as the slower kids could figure out the numbers. 12 and 144 I looked around at a couple of kids older than me--about 9 or 10--struggle to solve this uselessly easy problem. I let out a sigh and stared out the window only to see dirt. No sky, no sun, no clouds. Nothing. Just dirt. I've never seen the sky. Only in pictures MrIntroduction
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}Consider yourself
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}Consider yourself
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Me: Dude, It's a fake.
Mo: Why?
Me: This is an Octagon.
Mo: Lame.
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