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9/18/2018 1:51:16 PM
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A story i wrote in english class

2006, 2 years old. Creaks. James sat in his crib listening to the creaks, that haunted his ceiling, watching it to see if something would pop out, but as most things he thought up, it didn’t. He was very bored and wanted to explore but couldn’t due to his size. He was too small, even for how big he was. But nonetheless he sat and waited for father to come in and hoist him away to the kitchen table where he would watch his father make amazing cakes out of seemingly thin air. His brothers were always playing with their toys and his sister was too young to understand what was even happening. He put his pillow and wrapped himself in his blanket. With the terrifying noises that haunted his room. James was alone, alone with his blanket. Both of which were two things that did stay. 2018, 14 years old Footsteps. James walked from room to room, consistently having ideas and thoughts in his mind, some good some bad other times they were so random that it would freak himself out. Friends came and went, never really staying for long. James yearned at this fact of course, as he was usually very lonely, it was something he had grown used to it, but disappointed by results he got when trying to make some friends, the teachers would usually attempt to help, but he had gotten disappointed with that too, he felt as if he was treated like he was a “special”, “no one” he thought “no one would like to be categorized like that”, but they tried anyways. When the school would shut down and he would go on to ride the smelly, sweat induced bus that brings him home, going online to the world that knew him differently, a world he had with friends, most people wouldn’t understand unless they did it for a while too. Well, if they didn’t have any friends in the real world anyways. 2076, 72 years old Beeps. James was lying in his infirmary room, listening to the beeps. Listening to hear if it would change pitch or speed, but that never happened. When he was lying there he thought of the things he did and could have, he had a job, worked in the coastguard, had kids, had a wife. He’d come far, not that far but far nonetheless. His children, now adults of their own stayed with James . His son watched in sadness as his father was dying, James pulled out something from his suitcase, an old green blanket. He handed it to his son and said in an old raspy voice: “Something to remember me by” James listened to the beeps slowing down, his life was ending right here, right now. The beeping was slower, and slower, and slower. Then, it stopped. His son was alone, alone with his blanket. 2118, deceased Wind. A man stood in front of a grave as the wind blew across his face the man looked to be around 40, he looked at his fathers, grandfathers and great grandfather’s graves. He opened a suitcase he had with him, rummaged through some things and pulled out an old green blanket. He went home to his son, only around 2-3 years of age. “I’ve got something for you” He said. Then he handed the infant the green blanket. Just afterwards he was called in from his boss for an urgent task, he left his son immediately to deal with it. The infant sat in his crib listening to the creaks, that haunted his ceiling, watching it to see if something would pop out, but as most things he thought up, it didn’t. He was very bored and wanted to explore but couldn’t due to his size. He was too small, even for how big he was. He put his pillow and wrapped himself in his blanket. With the terrifying noises that haunted his room. The infant was alone, alone with his blanket. [spoiler]None of this is real dont take it to heart[/spoiler]

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