Cardemum?

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notiti

Refugee
Joined
Oct 7, 2001
Messages
1,336
Location
Kong Studios
She didn't think to scream as the gentleman in the large overcoat grabbed her upon exit from the habbedashery. He usual breakfast of toast and absinth having left her somewhat drained she felt that perhaps returning to Yorkshire, new bumbershoot in tow, was not all that dreadfully important.
The brute carried her to a dank basement in which there lay only a somewhat decomposed crate, a grey mattress and the stub end of a candle.
He put her to work making paper flowers.
From then on her days were rather monotanous. She awoke the the drunken lout cursing at the invisable deamons that plaqued him, tried her best to perfect the artificial roses despite the poor lighting and the beer bottles, thrown by her captor (who ocassionally suffered from the horrors.) She would then eat whatever scraps she could find about the pit, while the man sold her wares (the profits from which he used to porcure more alcohol.) She would then fall into a fitful sleep, shivering, on the bed.
Eventually, her eyes failing her, she was unable to dodge the projectiles and was hit in the side of the head. Bleeding, she stumbled out of the door as the man continued to rage at the unseen enemies. As she lay dying in the gutter she had but one thought:
It was certainly better than Yorkshire.


Fin
 
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this lemonade stand attracts a lot of weirdos

*eye twitch*

it's not real good for business

*shudder*

what's the price on a tall glass now anyway?
 
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