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Scrap-book This is very rarely used, and for now I'm simply storing an old work of mine in here. Do otherwise disregard my journal, as I do not use it!


Princess Piffle
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Oh! Look! Writing!
Personal Hell



“It’s hell in here,” she thought to herself. “It has to be. This has to be hell.” She walked along the hallway, towering walls that never ever ended; neither did the floor. All she could do was walk, and walk, and glance into the windows. But never doors. She never found an entrance into those rooms.

"Who do you think you are, you little boy, you p*ssy-licker, shoe-kisser, c*ck-sucker. You little worm on the road, about to get run over, you d*mn bird with its wings cut off and flaming. I swear you won't get out of this room looking the same. Your wife won't know you. The guards won't know you. The doctors will be too horrified to try and help you. You'll die drowning in a pool of your own blood, gurgling and choking on it." She had stopped at one window, watching painfully as a grown man was beaten down, a hissing shadow curling around him and scratching him, making him squirm and making him scream.

"Gonna wind you up and run you down, boy. I'm going to cut designs into you, squares of flesh gone to make a checkerboard, and your teeth will be the pieces. We're going to have fun, boy. Fun. Aww, shh... don't tremble. I won't get the cuts right." The shadow continued to hiss into his ear, the man trembling, staring vacantly at the window with terror. He didn’t know she was there, she had to remind herself. He didn’t know.

"See now, boy? Being quiet doesn't hurt as much. Be a good boy, such a precious thing with its face like that, oh, momma, be good little boy or momma will eat your heart out. Tell momma her name, little boy, and then you can sleep. Tuck you in and sing you a lullaby, keep all the monsters in the dark away." The man began to weep, horrified and terrorized by the pain left with each scratching, biting, clawing blow from the shadowy figure, his body naked and torn, pale from its constant loss of blood. In certain places on his body she could see where those pieces of flesh had been carved out so lovingly by the shadow. His personal curse. A shudder of sympathy and revulsion ran down her back, but this sight was beyond tears. All she could do was keep walking, and move to the next window a million miles away. This was her personal hell.




 
 
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