1/24/2014, 4:54 PM
I was locked my room because I had been almost kidnapped during the said yesterday. With my free time, I wrote a short story.
Once upon a time, there was a girl.
She was a princess.
She didn’t know where she came from.
She loved Tristiania when everybody else hated her.
No, it’s too much like my own life… where did I come from, anyway? I liked it better here than at the forced mental labor camp. Anyway…
The girl was a hybrid, but she didn’t know out because they had sprayed skin onto her back to hide the bird-like wings and to keep them from moving.
My pencil seemed to write all by itself, and I had no control over it. I read what it has written and wondered, Is the story really about me?
It would make sense.