(Untitled)

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ tonight, when you return to your room, there's a journal waiting for you. it's open to the first page, with your name and the date written neatly in a rusty brown in the upper right hand corner.

as you step forward, the pages flutter in anticipation. ]

(( NOT DEADLY but not entirely safe. carry on winding down due to internet problems. feel

Comments

[harisentai]

[........... jiiiii]

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ there's a feeling of anticipation in the air, somehow ]

[harisentai]

[:|a... just staring]

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ the ink of your name seems to grow more bold, then shrink back ]

[areplicatedhope]

But I've already written in my journal.

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ a blot of ink appears, suddenly ]

[areplicatedhope]

Is this thing haunted?

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ flutter ]

[screwfate]

*...stares at suspiciously*

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ flutter. ]

[screwfate]

*studies the pages*

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ there's a faint mark, as if ink from a few pages below has bled upwards, somehow ]

[hoppy_ending]

Eh? Where did you come from?

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ a light splatter appears, as if fresh ink from the second page has bled through ]

[hoppy_ending]

*Flips the page, curious*

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ it's empty. ]

[my_pleasure]

-eh? What's this?

[ picking it up, curiously ]

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ it doesn't seem to want to stay closed ]

[my_pleasure]

[ shrugs and tries flipping through it. ]

[fuckyou_chorus]

[ that it allows eagerly ]