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Have a read of last contributions to the open stories listed below. If you are interested in making a contribution for one of the stories simply click the "contribute" link under the last contribution below.

Jack and the forbidden mansion

They were sharing in his confusion. People do not gain a twin fourteen years after they have lived. They do not either, find them dead and long gone before ever having met. Certainly, a death was something to hold sorrow over. Both his and His. He had been a great man to society and people pay respects today, trading stories and sadder stories over a longer dinner, a longer day. Jack had loved Him like any other. Stories told and guests meet in the greater time, one of them had been him. He still wasn't sure what to think of it and he said so to His wife.
"Your husband killed my twin."

The photo did not answer back.
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One Truth Thousand Lies

It was a cold night. The wind was dying down. I stood at the window trying not to scare myself with the shadows. He was still there. He never moved. A figure with a smile all the more eerie with perectly shaped, perfectly white teeth. I was never hurt. My shoulders never met with fingers, colder than ice, longer than the fall of sleet. Untold horrors did not pool at my feet nor run down the stone, brick walls. Yet it was not him that i wanted. I clutch at my throat. I was alone again for one more night. One more night until i can escape. And find him. Again.
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Missing Soul

For several minutes we walked through the forest. The woods became denser the further in we went. I could not see more than a few feet in any direction. We were surrounded by shadows that scared me, and the breeze was chilling to my bones. Off in the distance, I could hear the howling of wolves and a few chattering sounds I could not make out. Perhaps they were other carnivorous animals.
At one point, almost abruptly, we reached a clearing. There were torches, and an altar with blood stains on it. "OK, this is kind of weird." I said. "What's going on?"
"I'll tell you," said Piper, as she looked at me with a haunting gaze. Her long dark hair and her flowing outfit were spooky. But I could not help but feel awed by it, too.
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When One Hundred Million Died

“NO, DONT LEAVE!...please?”

Those were the last words I ever heard from my sister, age ten, who was just one of the countless victims of what this country has become, one of the many nameless trampled flowers of a cruel garden. Burned; gassed; poisoned; shot; nobody knows how we are going to die, only the ones who can no longer tell us.
It started with us, but sure as my sister’s dying screams and shrieks won’t end with us. We are the first generation of this terrifying place, no peace, but always guaranteed death.
I should start at the beginning. My name is Theodore Jones, and I am fourteen and have been through hell, but I mean, we all have, have we not?
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