Scrawled in a loose hand on the pages of a maimed and singed oilcloth-wrapped journal. It's cover and page margins are scrawled over with doodles of kittens. Some of these are, unfortunately, pink.
The handwriting on this entry is particularly bad. It doesn't follow the lines, jumps around the page randomly, and the writing in some places is gouged
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*hide under bed*
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Funny, don't feel dead.
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The voices in my head appear to have been giving me information of a less-than-truthful nature. What they lacked in veracity they made up for in insistence.
And you cannot imagine the headache they left me as a going away present!
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...Tell me again why it is I do this sort of thing?
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Or, well. Because it's excellent training for becoming an adventuress, evil or otherwise?
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