Steward's Log: MT-Date FA0419076352
I don't know how long I've been in here, but I'm feeling rather grungy and much hairier than normal.
To keep myself sane spirits up, I write on the walls, scratching each word with a chunk of shattered stone pried from the cell floor.
The days are long and so is my beard, but I'm not being tortured...except for being locked in here shut off from sunlight or fresh air. And I can't say I'm crazy about the ugly hats. *mope*
*sigh* The leather wore off my baseball long ago; it's nothing but a pile of string. I wonder what's happening in the city. My tower crumbling--that was only a nightmare, right?
To keep myself sane spirits up, I write on the walls, scratching each word with a chunk of shattered stone pried from the cell floor.
The days are long and so is my beard, but I'm not being tortured...except for being locked in here shut off from sunlight or fresh air. And I can't say I'm crazy about the ugly hats. *mope*
*sigh* The leather wore off my baseball long ago; it's nothing but a pile of string. I wonder what's happening in the city. My tower crumbling--that was only a nightmare, right?