User blog:Selenaroxx/Official First Chapter of The Slender Man Project

Hey guys! Selenaroxx here, and I'm hoping this preview thing goes well... Anyway, I'm writing a book- and yes, I do intend to publish it sooner or later- and I wanted to get a feel for how people might react to it, and so I'm posting the first official chappie on here! :) Anyway, enjoy!

Oh yeah, one last thing: I've posted other chapters, but they have since then been revised and altered, so there's no point in looking at the other old chapters that I've posted...

Now, without further ado, the official beginning chapter to The Slender Man Project

 Chapter 1: 

   

 The New Student 



 “If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.” 

 -             Frank Clark 



 The world is a vast place- many different stories and lives crisscross amongst each other. While there are so many stories to choose from, at the end, only a few people get a published novel that documents and explains- hopefully in vivid details- what they have gone through.



 Whether it is a true story that has happened to one of our own at some point, or a fabricated story, spun together by the threads of fantasy and ‘what if’, it is still a possibility, an outcome. And this novel is no different- it is its own story.



 One out of many stories in the world, yet, here it is: the story of a cast of protagonists- for, this author doesn’t believe in truly shining the light on one particular character- some supporting characters that are faithful and boost the main characters up, and so many complex webs of back-stories that end up not being so different from what we may have gone through.



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 There are living- animate- things, and there are non living- inanimate- objects. Sometimes, however, the border between animate and inanimate is meant to be- not necessarily broken- muddled, so that there’s no imaginary line that truly defines where living extends and where nonliving extends.



<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Such logic applies to the light at the beginning of this particular story- it crept into the tenth grade writing classroom as stealthy and sneaky as a ninja. It made not a single peep as it sneaked past the glass window. It tip-toed on the room temperature tile floor and it reached its natural destination- the hair of fifteen year old Alison DeVara.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> The sunlight frolicked and rolled around in Alison’s chestnut brown hair, but it was the only…thing in the room that was not writing. Every actual animate student was furiously bent over their notebook paper- papers if they either had humongous handwriting, the ability to wheedle out rich, sensory details out of a boring, restricting topic, or both- ignoring the strands of hair that fell off of their shoulder blades onto the desk- well, it only happened to the female students. None of the male students had long enough hair.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> They just continued to write, filling the room with only the scratching on pens and papers as they continued to work on their writing assignment for the day- every day, the assignment was different. Today, it had been on their opinion on whether music was- in their mind- a way to tell a story.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> As the clock ticked yet again to show that another minute had passed by, Ms. Copsworth- the young teacher who was considered attractive by any male that knew of her- took notice and stood up from the plushy chair that had previously occupied her.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> “Alright, it’s time! Pass your papers up to the front, and I’ll check it!” Ms. Copsworth exclaimed- it was the only way to get the attention of this generation of tenth graders that seemed to be deaf half the time.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> The serene blanket of silence that had been knitted together by the lack of talking in the classroom was, more or less, ripped apart as the classroom became overwhelmed by the many overlapping conversations- it was loud enough to the point that kids would lean in, yelling, “What did you say???” to the person sitting right next to them.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> People started to pass their papers up, hastily scrawling their name on the paper- through all this; they struggled to keep up their conversations. One student among a few who found no use whatsoever in attempting to talk to a fellow peer through the deafening noise was Alison DeVara, and she took this lack of conversation time to good use- she carefully wrote her name at the top right corner of her paper, the instinct that had been drilled into her. She added extra swirls and dots to her name that had already been done in fine calligraphy before passing it up.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Alison was a person who took her time with everything to slowly get it to perfection- or, a handy substitute for perfection- and that was the main difference between her and the fairly popular strawberry blonde girl that sat in front of her.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> “Geez, why do you take a long time just to write out your name?” the latter asked with a slight country twang- well, they did live in Georgia. It wasn’t too uncommon to find a person with a country accent in a southeast state- furrowing her eyebrows in confusion at Alison.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> She was about to just wing it- she couldn’t really put much thought into a personal question; she respected her privacy as much as most of her peers did- but just as her mouth opened, she was spared from having to string together a bunch of mumbled, incoherent words as the loud, obnoxious bell rang- class had ended, and Alison had gotten lucky.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in">   She quickly rearranged her books to make her science book the top book- she enjoyed having the book that corresponded with the subject on the top of her book mountain. Standing outside the door to her science classroom, she watched as an unruly and overwhelming wave of tenth graders- most of which were the stereotypical football jocks- came rushing out of the classroom, letting out a long stream of extreme profanity as they all headed to their next class.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> As soon as the last straggler had exited the room, she and the rest of her period entered the classroom. She took a seat at her lab desk, rolling her eyes at the stick figures and innuendos that had been sketched onto her desk today. She, naturally being obedient to the authoritative figure, pulled out her homework folder and carefully took out the two sheets of homework that her period had been assigned.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Upon taking out a fresh, clean sheet of notebook paper, Alison found that her mind was a blank- she couldn’t really brainstorm anything to write down as an example for their essential question of the day, and the talking that was going on behind her sure didn’t make it any easier to focus.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Turning her head ninety degrees east, she located the source of the particularly loud dialogue- her science teacher, the naturally loud co-principal, and a new student.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Her lips slowly quirked upward- it had been months since the last new student, and he had ended up only staying for three days before moving again. She did get rather lonely, especially during the partner labs when she would work alone while being surrounded by plenty of chattering pairs, so it would be nice to get a companion.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in">'' Wait…I don’t know what to talk about with him!  And with that thought, the original happiness of getting a new companion quickly soured, and her poker face- or, as many called it, her sad face'', even though she wasn’t smiling nor frowning!- overpowered the unsteady smile.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Her chanting had drastically changed- instead of chanting ''Sit here! Sit here! in her mind, she was chanting Don’t sit here! Don’t sit here!''

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> It was at that particular moment that Mr. Dredie- the science teacher- stated, “Most of the seats are taken up. Let’s see; where could I put you, Joshua? Oh, I see an empty seat- Joshua, you can go sit next to Alison.”

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> He said more, but Alison had no driving motive to eavesdrop any longer- she was now cursing reverse psychology for having worked alongside the evil force known as terrible timing.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> The new kid- Alison remembered that his name was Joshua, and vowed to call him that instead of new kid; she doubted that he would take kindly to that name- came up to her lab desk and awkwardly stuffed his large backpack underneath his side of the desk.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> He stared at her for a second, quickly saying, “Joshua Salbur,” and nodding before he bent down towards his backpack to take out the necessities.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> “Alison DeVara,” she replied with just as much awkwardness seeping through to her tone. She was suddenly grateful to her mother for having been stubborn enough to convince her to keep her bangs- they were the perfect key to slightly shielding her and making her feel less uneasy.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> She didn’t try to be an awkward introvert- if she had tried, she would have given up at the age of six; being an introvert had far more cons when compared to pros- but being a social person just wasn’t in her genetic makeup.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> She knew how to be social- go talk to people, normally start the first step by talking to them first, become friends with the friend’s friends- but that was all she knew.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> It was like a formula- a perfect comparison, seeing as she utterly sucked at formulas- that she just couldn’t actually apply to herself. It was for multiple reasons, of course, but none of them were really good reasons- mostly just preferences and a bit of laziness, in a way.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> For one thing, as a kid, she hadn’t realized the dire effects of being shy, so she would always be completely mute throughout any and all school days leading up to third grade. She had thought that having a book to constantly keep her mind occupied would be a good enough substitution, but it was too late. By the time she had grown out of being a true bookworm and she had actually started to talk- much to the immense amazement of her peers; whoa, that girl can actually talk?- no one needed a friend any more.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Everyone had already snagged themselves a friend or two- unless they were one of the popular stereotypes like the class clown; in that case, they racked up nearly everyone’s friendship- and no one was willing to, near the middle of their grade school years, get a friend out of someone that they had known for multiple years. Only new students got the opportunity to make new friends at a later age- that was an advantage that Alison, sadly, lacked.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> On the final day of her life in grade school- she had been so ready to get out of that cheap food serving, field trip banning, biased teacher hiring prison that they called McOrnley Elementary School by the sixth and final school year there- she had made a vow to herself- try to actually make some friends in middle school. For, sure she had a few people at McOrnley that talked to her, but those people were always only school friends or, even lower, mere acquaintances.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> And, she had tried- she just had not tried hard enough, not that she could try any harder. All the people she had approached had merely given her the tight smile- she understood when she was and was not wanted, and unfortunately for her, she was not wanted all of the twenty seven times that she tried to be someone’s friend.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> After that, she had not felt the urge to be the one to make a move- she had tried, twenty seven times, to make the first move and have a friend- if she was only going to get cold, stinging rejection. She wanted someone to crawl, need, beg her for their friendship. After all, there had to be someone like her- someone who needed someone’s friendship to hold dearly.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> And so, with this new way of thinking in mind, she waited patiently for someone to approach her and ask her the same question that had come out of her mouth numerous times. That time had never come, and now, here she was, halfway through tenth grade, and she hadn’t really made any true progress in making any friends.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Of course, the fact that Susie Starp- the rich, popular girl at Kent High who was known for holding grudges- constantly complained about the wrongs that people had done to her- such as the time that Alison had accidentally thrown up at Susie’s seventh birthday party, the one where the entire grade had been invited- played and contributed its bit into her lack of friends.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Alison quickly shook her head a little- no one noticed, to her immense relief- to wake her up from strolling down Memory Lane, and she noticed Joshua staring at her intently.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> “Did you say something?” Alison asked Joshua, feeling her inner mind yell at her brain ''Stupid! You probably just ruined any chances of making a friend!''

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> He sighed before mutely shaking his head; he then awkwardly fiddled around with his fingers.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Alison’s shoulders- previously held up- were suddenly let down as she bent her head down in the all too familiar position: The Head Bending of Shame.

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:center"> ~

<p class="MsoNormal">           Having become so immersed in the book she was reading as a result of having finished her work early, she was abruptly shaken out of the world of Tally Youngblood- she was extremely thankful that the librarian had recommended the book Uglies to her; she was now almost finished with Specials and she loved each and every book of the series so far- by the startling bell, signaling the end of their current class period. It was also, accidentally, a signal for when she jostled Joshua’s elbow.

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<p class="MsoNormal">           Her tan skin was still light enough for a blush to be evident- this was made obvious when Alison’s cheek flush a dark hue of scarlet.

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<p class="MsoNormal">           “Sorry,” she muttered, bowing her head down to avoid seeing what she presumed to be his facial expression currently: his eyes rolling, his face reflecting the inner annoyance he felt for Alison.

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<p class="MsoNormal">           It was now official and blatant to her: any chance she had of making a new friend had immediately dissipated into the land- this land only existed in her mind- of Never to Be.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Stepping outside the warm, toasty classroom, she inwardly grumbled as she stepped outside- she had been released late, and she did not want to actually be late to class for the first time in, well, forever!

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Quickening her pace, she tried to slow down as soon as she saw the tenth grade male’s ‘it’ hair- a hair style that only the football jocks had: hair parted to the right side with side bangs- but it was a fruitless attempt. She still ended up crashing into the jock’s chest, sending her down to the cold, nasty school floor; all her books and supplies sent tumbling down thanks to the powerful almighty force of gravity.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> The jock and his equally cliché football buddies all just laughed it off- of course they could laugh it off; they hadn’t crashed into rock hard abs that hurt!- as they walked toward Mr. Dredie’s classroom.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> “Great,” she grumbled to herself as her line of vision once more fell upon the giant school clock- she only had three minutes, and then she would have her first tardy in life- while she struggled to pick up all the supplies that had scattered across the school floor and then deposit it in her supply box.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> When she looked back down, she saw two surprising things: her books were all in the order that she had had them in Science, and Joshua Salbur was staring at her, smiling a small smile.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> “Need a hand?” He asked, extending his enormous palm out to her microscopic in comparison palm. She gladly took it, taking this time to notice some distinctive features about him.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> He had shaggy, platinum blonde hair that looked as if it had the softness of a quilt made from her grandmother’s love and hard work. He had lips that appeared to be swollen, a wide nose that’s nostrils were flared out a bit farther than she had ever seen, and pale skin that accentuated the freckles and various acne that were a part of his face.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> His eyes, however, were something entirely different- something about them was so compelling; it made her forget about all of his genetic flaws. They were a stunning shade of olive green, and they had a special…shine to it; one that entranced her for a minute or two.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Joshua wasn’t oblivious to this entirely- he only knew that Alison was staring at him, and that his cheeks felt like heavy chunks of heated metal- and so he coughed in an exaggerated manner.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> It brought her out of her trance, and she once more felt the blush returning to her cheeks, stronger than ever. She snapped her pencil box shut before grabbing all of her materials. She glanced at the clock, and her eyes widened as if she had just been told that her funeral was being held- to her, it technically was. She had one minute to get to class- so she gave Joshua a small smile and a quick, “Thank you,” before she ran to her final period of the day: Advanced Placement History.

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-align:center; text-indent:.25in"> ~

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Trudging home with a heavy backpack that lowered both her spirits and her back, Alison’s mind kept thinking about the project that her history class had received. Her teacher, Mrs. Picito, had wasted no time in getting class started- she had arrived right on time, which made her ever so grateful- and she had brought an intriguing project along with her.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> For some absurd reason that was refusing to reveal itself to Alison, all the teachers had collaborations planned out- Mrs. Picito was no different, despite the fact that she was ten times sterner, harsher, and overall- just an unpleasant and, for the most part, unbearable teacher compared to the rest.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> She had immediately announced that they were going to have a project that weighed in both her writing and history class. Since they were currently going into the supernatural portion of fantasy in writing, and going into the nitty-gritty details of what made Europe to be, well, Europe, the two teachers had concocted a project that would be an interesting blend of both contrasting topics.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> She had then picked up the ever so popular black hat that’s connotation was a magician.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Proceeding to every student in her final period of history, she finally reached Alison. Chanting in her head Be an easy topic, she closed her eyes, put her right hand into the hat, and felt all the papers. She felt the smoothness of the paper and the even edges, so to suddenly come across a jagged edge startled her. It also spiked her interest, so, deciding to go with the one that stood out to her, she plucked the paper out of the hat.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Mrs. Picito moved to the next student, and as Alison opened up the slip of paper, a single strand of her short, shoulder length, blonde hair fell onto Alison’s desk.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Ignoring the single strand shedding, Alison looked at the bold letters that were printed on the paper in such a way that it stood out; it was accentuated and seemed to just pop from the paper.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> The Slender Man  was the preternatural force written on the slip of paper, and it was also currently the name that consumed her every thought. She just absolutely wanted to get this project over with- she had been missing sweet old free time ever since she entered tenth grade, and rumor had it that after all these collaboration projects and the finals, the rate of homework would dramatically decrease, much to her pleasure.

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<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-align:center; text-indent:.25in"> ~

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Feeling the silence that seemed to wrap around the DeVara household like a warm, comforting, tender, maternal pair of arms, Alison sighed contently. It was only on rare occasions like this particular minute that the house received such rare treatment, and it felt so refreshing that Alison just had to sit down and close her eyes.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> It was at times like these when she could close her eyes and picture a family that was the polar opposite of hers- a family that constantly went on trips to local and exotic places, a family that, time and time again, proved their endless love for one another, and a family that didn’t let their selfishness and stubbornness come in the way of bonding that only family could do.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Alison smiled, a serene expression slowly forming on her face- she could sit in this beautiful, glorious silence.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> But, as life had proved time and time again, every good thing could only last for a mere moment- if it happened more frequently, it would have to let go of the blissfulness that came by- and this was blatantly proven as soon as Alison heard the all too familiar shriek of her mother.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.25in;text-indent:.25in"> Well, it was nice while it lasted… 

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