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Post by Veldznich on Aug 1, 2011 8:12:07 GMT -5
A yellowed, tattered piece of scroll lies open upon the middle of a dark oaken table. The words are barely readable, worn away over the years. However, some words appear legible...
All of my life I have suffered hatred. Hatred for my family, and myself. Why must I be hated? Just because I look like that of which is feared, does not mean... The days go by and each hour that passes makes me feel ever more anxious for my siblings. They have been gone so long...
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