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Here he stands, in the middle of the satin wood floor. The furniture that once was beautiful and welcoming is now gone. The door was replaced with wall. He is trapped. For he is alone.
Everyone left without a trace, leaving the child to stand in the middle of the floor. He avoids the light from the holes in the ceiling, he avoids the dark that is creeping in the corners. His small bare feet are nailed to the floor. His face is painted with colorful tales, ones that only a circus could describe. His other hand holds a bright red balloon that no longer has the will to be free. There is nothing left in this room, just like there is nothing left in the silky white hair child. He is stuck in this room, forever alone.
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Shh I can't say what this journal is about to say.
Wait, I said it.
O'well, the secret is out...
Don't tell anyone, you have to promise!
Of course I can trust in you, can't I?
Perhaps not.
Anywho, interesting thought of the day...













