They were all gathered for the anniversary of a dubiously joyous day. Twenty years ago, the ten of them had gotten out. (Ten of over a hundred, her mind refused to let her forget.) Those of them that had survived each had a contribution to dedicate to the friends they had lost. Hers was flowers, because she lived closest. Others brought candies, toys, books, anything to placate the spirits of the deceased, who disturbed the nearby village when distressed
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I don't know what it was, but I don't think it could be called a story.
This one is though, and I hope it makes up for yesterdays shite.
http://lillyegray.livejournal.com/1042.html
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Really good one too!
I like that!
(Lillie, too lazy to sign in)
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