A Story by Dearantlers

My first memory is of my third birthday.  My attention seems mostly focused on a small cake, dusted with sugar.  My mouth watered at the sight of it and my fingers constantly reached out to touch it.  I would get only inches away before my hand was gently slapped away.  There was also a small pile of presents wrapped in last week’s newspaper that my hands were itching to tear into.  There were also people, all of them my family.  The older people with the gray hair are my grandparents and the adults standing in the background are my aunts and uncles.  The kids pushing to the front trying to get a look at the cake are my cousins.  The two adults standing over me are my parents.  But there’s one person I don’t know.  She sits next to me.  I can see her eyes full of the same childish greed that I imagine is in mine as she stares at the presents and cake.  She has curly red hair spilling out of her short ponytail.  Every time we look at each other, a smile brightens up her face and I can feel the corners of my mouth turning up too.  There’s a bond between us, one that I can feel the strength of even in my memory, and yet this is the only memory I have of her.  Honestly, I know there was something special about this girl, but I don’t know what.  I have no idea who she is.  I don’t even know her name.
My name is Irma Jean, but most people just call me Irma.  I usually only hear Irma Jean if  I’m in trouble.  I’ve already heard it twice this morning as Mamma yells for me to do something more in preparation for our guests as I run around the house.  But now all is quiet and I have a moment to breathe.  Everything is ready and now we’re just waiting for the people.  I smooth down my new dress again, loving the feeling of the silky blue material underneath my hands.  It had to have cost a fortune, but my parents had probably saved all year in order to buy it for me and to have the money for my party. Mamma walks up to me, a sad smile on her face that doesn’t quite match the mood of the brightly decorated house.  Papa walks up behind her, the same look on his face.  
“Irma,” my mother starts and her voice starts to quiver so Papa takes over.
“Irma, there’s something we need to tell you.” He starts, his voice quivering also. My face scrunches into a look of confusion.  My parents never get emotional.  “We know now probably isn’t the best time to tell you this, but we feel like you need to know now that you’re old enough.” He takes a deep breath.  “Irma, you’re ad…” 
He is interrupted by a knock at the door.  Mamma sighs and whispers, “We’ll finish this later.” I nod in confusion, my head spinning with ideas of what Papa was going to say.  Mamma opens the door, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes lighting up her face. Before I can think much about how quickly her mood seemed to change, I hear the breathless voices of my friends Hattie, Opal and Wilma.  Mamma shows them into the parlor and they run up and hug me.  In all the excitement I almost miss the forlorn look now contorting Mamma’s face as I look at her over Opal’s shoulder. 
More guests arrive and thanks to games, food and presents, the rest of the night passes quickly. Before I know it though, the guests are gone and I’m sitting down with my parents across from me.  Papa sighs, and Mamma puts a comforting hand on his knee. 
Papa starts right where he left of.  “Irma, you’re…” he pauses, takes a deep breath and continues.  “You’re adopted,” he finally says, just giving it to me straight and not trying to lessen the blow in any way.
It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and when I finally realize their meaning my mind starts to spin.  I feel so many emotions instantly bubble up that I can’t pinpoint a single one.  I’m not even sure where they came from.   I don’t know whether to be hurt and hysterical, offended and confused, or scared and betrayed.  All the feelings are there, each trying to push their way to the surface.  I feel myself start to sway on my chair and hear my mother’s worried voice but I can’t concentrate on it.  Colors swim before my eyes as my emotions war inside me.  I finally feel one start to win and I grasp on to it.  Rage.  Rage fills my body.  I clench my fists and start to yell, “What!? Why didn’t you tell me?”  As my parents’ faces come back into focus I can see the shock and hurt on their faces from my outburst, and for a moment I feel guilty, but then the rage takes over again.  I jump from my chair and start to pace back and forth in front of my parents, ranting about how they should’ve told me years ago.  
I finally pause to take a deep breath, just in time to hear Papa say,  “Maybe we shouldn’t tell her about her twin brother.”
“It’s his birthday.  Let him sleep in for once.”
I roll over in bed and groan.  I love Ma, but she really needed to learn how to whisper.  Her “quiet” voice was just as loud as a regular person’s normal voice.  I push my old quilt off my legs and crawl out of bed. I pull on my pants and start to button up my shirt.  Normally I do this early enough in the morning that it was completely dark in my room, but this morning there was a little light creeping in through the cracks in the curtains.  I guess that I’ve slept in about a half an hour.  Sleeping in is a rare treat and even that half-hour was amazing.  I creep out of the room I share with my younger sister and brother knowing they would sleep for a little longer.  I walk into the kitchen where Ma is standing over the stove.  I grab my old work boots lacing them up and ignoring the places where my toes stick out.
“You’re up!” Ma exclaims in surprise.  “Happy birthday! Your pa just went out to start your chores.” 
I nod in reply before heading outside to help Pa.  He has pulled out Star, one of our cows, and is milking her.  I grab Daisy, our other cow and tie her up next to Star, grabbing the stool and bucket, then leaning up against her warm side as I start to milk her.  A barn cat sits a few feet away, staring at me with its mouth open.  I smile and squirt a stream of milk into its open mouth.  I’ve done this so many times I can hit the mark perfectly every time.  I suddenly stop, remember that Pa was milking with me and he wouldn’t approve of me wasting the milk. 
Knowing we’ll be milking for a while, I decide to start a conversation with Pa to break the silence.  I clear my throat, then tentatively ask “Pa?” He’s a man of few words so it was no surprise when he only grunts in reply.  “I keep having this dream.  I guess it’s more of a memory really,” I begin.  He grunts again.  “I think it’s my birthday when I was turning either two or three.  You and Ma were standing in the back, holding William. Then there was Uncle Ashel and Aunt Cora and their kids, then Uncle Charles and Aunt May with their kids.  There were two other adults standing over me.  My…” I pause, “real parents.  But there’s one person I can’t quite figure out.  There’s a girl sitting next to me with curly red hair and freckles sprayed across her nose.  I can feel something between us Pa, yet I don’t know who she is.” I stop talking waiting for Pa’s reply, but hear only silence.  Even the rhythmic sound of milk being sprayed into the bucket is gone.  “Pa?” I ask.
He sighs and starts milking Star again.  “Bernard, “ he starts, “ I guess there’s something I need to tell you.” He pauses for a second as if collecting his thoughts. “You have a twin.”
My face twists into confusion.  A twin?  How could I have a twin? I was the only child of Rex and Rachel Mellor, and always have been.  When my parents died in a barn fire I came to live with Uncle Harry and Aunt Carol, who have raised me as their own.  I had forced my three-year-old brain to forget having seen the barn fire, so when I was old enough they told me what had happened. But they never mentioned a twin.
“We could only handle one of you, what with Carol being about to have Amelia. We couldn’t take care of both of you.  You had so much energy, always running around.  Thankfully, there was a family from up north passing through, and they saw our dilemma and offered to help.  We had no choice but to say yes.  We decided it was better not to tell you once we’d realized you’d forgotten her.”
I can’t decide if I believe him.  When something traumatic happens, unlike most people, I can force myself to forget it.  Losing a twin sounds like something I’d try to forget, but at the same time the story sounds so incredulous that I’m scared to believe it.  My mind just can’t wrap around it.  I not only have a sister, but a twin?!
“Bernard?” Pa asks.  I realize I’ve stopped milking.
“What’s her name?” I ask trying to keep my emotions from showing in my voice.  Pa doesn’t reply.  “What’s her name?” I ask again, and this time I could plainly hear the hurt in my voice. 
“Irma,” Pa whispers quietly.  “Irma Jean.”
“Irma.” I try the name out.  My brain seems to recognize it, and the memory of her at the birthday party comes vividly back to my mind and the name Irma fits so perfectly, I knew it has to be true. 
“Bernard, I’m sorry,” Pa says, and I’m taken aback.  I have never heard Pa say sorry.  “We just did what we thought was best.”
I don’t reply for fear I might say something I’ll later regret.  I just start back milking Daisy, trying to make sense of all the thoughts in my head.  I don’t say another word while we finish milking, or feed the horses, or take care of the other animals, and neither does Pa.  Finally right before we walk back in the house, I stop, take a deep breath and ask, “Where does she live?”
Pa stops, his hand on the doorknob.  “The couple was from Salt Lake City.  I don’t know if they’re still there though,” then he turns the knob and walks in the door without another word.  I follow, deciding to push thoughts of a twin sister away for now and to enjoy my birthday.  The day passes in a blur, and soon I’m trying in vain to fall asleep, but all I can do is think about Irma.  I feel like I have to find her, no matter what.  A plan starts to form in my mind as I finally drift to sleep.

Crying is a funny thing.  It completely takes over your body, making it next to impossible to do anything but cry.  You can’t think, only just sit there shuddering as tears stream down your cheeks, and foreign noises come from your throat.  Once started, it can’t be stopped until it’s run its course.  I had watched people cry like this before but until now I’ve never felt it.  One second I am pacing and ranting as I hear my dad whisper, “Maybe we shouldn’t tell her about her twin brother,” and the next I’m in a crumpled ball on the floor, sobs tearing through my body.  My parents have to be worried, but I can’t see anything as I sob into my hands, and my cries are so loud, if they said anything I can’t hear it.  After a minute, I feel a comforting arm around my shoulders, then am pulled into a hug from Mamma.  I throw my arms around her shoulders and let her dress soak up my flood of  tears.  After what feels like hours, my sobs quiet, and my tears slow. 
“I’m so sorry Irma,” Mamma whispers into my ear, and I realize that she is crying too.  “I’m so very sorry,” she repeats.  “We should’ve told you, but we just,” she pauses, ”couldn’t,”  she finally finishes, hugging me tighter. I continue to sob onto her shoulder and my mother strokes my hair comfortingly. 
Finally I run out of tears and realize how silly my reaction was. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to Mamma and take my head off her wet shoulder.  She helps me get off the floor and I take a deep breath, telling myself I won’t have a breakdown like this again.
“I want to meet him,” I tell Mamma, surprising myself with the revelation, but realizing that it's completely true..
“What?” she asks in surprise.  
“I want to meet him,” I repeat, determination evident in my voice.  
Mamma just sighs and says, “We’ll talk to Papa later. Right now we have a party to clean up. Come on. Dishes need to be washed.”  She pushes me forward towards the sink.  I smile, grateful for the distraction.  I let myself forget about this twin brother, and focus on scrubbing the plates, singing as I work while Mamma sweeps.  Too soon though, we sit down for dinner, and Mamma and Papa keep giving me concerned looks, I am forced to remember why I was crying so hard only a few hours before.  It took me almost half of the completely silent meal to finally get the nerve to tell Papa.  “I” I start, but loose my nerve as both my parents heads turn to look at me.  They keep staring, so I decided to continue.  “I want to meet him.” My parents keep staring at me, not saying anything back, so I start to ramble to fill the awkward silence.  “By him, I mean my brother.  Well, I guess my twin brother.  The one I was separated from.”  I realized that I sound stupid, so just finish with, “What’s his name?”
Mamma and Papa give each other “the look”. I only see it when I am acting weird, which I definitely am. 
“Bernard,” Mamma finally tells me.  “Bernard Sorensen.”
I nod in response, trying to cover up my rambling by acting older and more mature.  “Can I meet him?”
Papa is silent for a long time, and it’s all I could do to not shake Papa by his shoulders and beg him to answer me.  Instead, I continue to eat, pretending like nothing is bothering me.  Finally, Papa clears his throat, and once he catches my eye, simply says, “Ok.”
I couldn’t believe that Ma and Pa were actually ok with me doing this.  When I’d told them my plan I expected, and almost wanted, immediate rejection. But instead they’d just nodded their heads and told me that it would work.  I couldn’t believe that they were actually willing to send their 14 year old boy to Salt Lake all on his own, especially since I’ve never been to a town bigger than Manti before.  I throw my small bag in the back of the wagon.  I’m surprised that Pa was going to hook the wagon up just to take me to the train station, but my little brother and sister had begged to come see me off and Pa could never say no to them, so he hooked the team up.  Ma gives me a bear hug, almost suffocating me, then asks, ”Do you have your extra clothes? What about the map?  And her address?  And we can’t forget your money.  Do you have it all?”
I smile.  I can tell how nervous she is from her rambling.  “Yes Ma,” I reply, playfully rolling my eyes.
She smiles then pulls me back into a hug.  “Stay safe,” she says as she lets me go and I clamber into the back of the wagon, then pull little William and Amelia up behind me.  They sit down, one on either side of me.  I finally start to feel butterflies from both nervousness and excitement as the wagon jolts into motion. 
“Goodbye!” Ma yells.  “Stay safe!” I wave back at her, until she turns around to go back in the house.  
“Do you have to go?” Amelia whines.
“Yeah,” William replies.  “Pa says I have to get up early while your gone to help, so you better get back soon.”
Pa chuckles from the front of the wagon where he’s driving the team.  “You’ll survive Will.”
I laugh.  William really loves his sleep.  Pa was going to have a hard time waking him up.  
The rest of the ride passes quickly, almost too quickly for comfort.  Before I know it, we’re pulling up in front of the depot. The train is scheduled to arrive in about fifteen minutes, according to Pa’s pocket watch. 
Pa decides this time is perfect to give me advice.  “If you get lost don’t be afraid to ask for directions.  Act older than you are so people don’t see you as a target.  Once you find her, don’t stay too long.  You don’t want to impose on their hospitality.” He stops to take a breath.  “Last of all, enjoy yourself.  You’re going on an adventure, so make it fun!” I nod in reply.  I take Millie’s hand as we walk to the station to buy my ticket.  Just as I’m handed my ticket, the train whistle blows and we run out to see it pull up.  The ground rumbles as it pulls closer.  Will, Millie and I stare at it in wonder.  It’s so big, and can move so fast.  It finally pulls to a stop, and Pa puts a hand on my back to steer me towards the train.  Right before I step on, he pulls me into a giant bear hug.  “I love you,” he whispers into my ear. 
“I love you too,” I whisper back.  I reach down and give Millie and Will quick hugs, then step tentatively onto the train.  I walk to an empty seat next to the window so I can wave back at my family.  I’m pushed back into the seat as the train starts to move.  As it gets to full speed, I can’t believe how fast the landscape passes by.  Most of the way we’re passing hills covered in sagebrush, but the occasional farms and buildings pass by in a blur.  I’m so mesmerized from watching out the window that I don’t realize how much time passes, and before I know it, the train is slowing by another stop.
“One,” I think.  Pa said I was to get off at the fourth stop.  I watch as people get on and off, surprised by how different many of these people are compared to the farmers from my little town of Fayette.  There, everyone is in his or her dusty farm clothes, except at church on Sunday’s. But even then, nothing we wear is like most of the people bustling on and off the train.  The men’s suits are as black as coal, without even a speck of dust on them.  Their boots have been polished till they shine, with no scuff marks or mud caked on the sides like mine.  The women’s clothes are even stranger.  Their skirts are so big they barely fit down the aisle and there are so many colors my eyes can scarce take it in.  
Between watching the people and the landscape speed past, time passes quickly.  I whisper, “Four,” as the train starts to slow down again, and stand up. I dart into the aisle before the crush of bodies and jump out right after the train comes to a  complete stop, and freeze.  There are so many people I can’t move.  There are people of every kind.  Tall and short.  Brown hair and blonde hair.  Fancy clothes and plain clothes.  The people behind me push me forward as they get off the train.  I have to push between people to go anywhere, and finally I find a spot to stand that isn’t as crowded.  
I look around in awe, my eyes passing over all the people. There’s so much to take in that I can’t focus on one thing, until I see something that catches my eye.  Standing only a few feet from me is a girl.  She has long red hair with a slight curl to it, and freckles sprayed across her nose.  She looks at me and catches my eye.  They’re a dark chocolate brown.  I feel like I know her, but I can’t decide where from.  Her face is twisted in confusion as she stares back at me.  A man walks up behind her and the woman next to her and puts a hand on each of their shoulders, but she doesn’t look away from me.  The woman takes her hand and tells her something and the girl whispers something back.  I know it’s not nice to stare, but I can’t look away.  The woman looks at me, confusion and suspicion evident on her face, but the girl gives me a shy, crooked smile, and in that moment I finally realize who she is.  A grin splits my face in excitement.  It’s been eleven years since I saw her last, but I was finally staring at my sister!  I was looking at my twin!
She and the woman keep talking, the woman giving me wary looks.  I start to move towards them just as the woman takes Irma’s arm and pulls her away in the opposite direction without much resistance.  Wait! I think.  What was happening? Why is my sister walking away from me? She looks back over her shoulder at me, and gives me a small , apologetic shrug, then keeps going.  That’s when I realize that maybe I am wrong.  The chances of me just running into my twin are next to zero.  But for some reason I just can’t believe that this girl isn't my sister. 
I’m so nervous I can barely think. I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to be packing, and find myself constantly grabbing the wrong things.  I collapse on my bed in exhaustion from running around my room in such a frenzy.  I can’t believe this is really happening.  Three days ago I had no idea that I had a brother, let alone a twin, but tomorrow I was going to meet him.  I hope and pray that he is living in the same house he had eleven years ago.  Mamma and Papa were both going with me, and I could hear their packing downstairs.  My heart flutters in excitement each time I hear a drawer close, or a door open as they prepare for our trip. 
That night I have a hard time falling asleep.  Instead I lay in bed wondering what tomorrow will bring.  When I finally drift into a fitful sleep, I have a dream unlike any I’d ever had before.  It is so clear that I fee; like I am really there, that it isn’t just a dream.  And then I realize why.  I had been there once, a long time ago.  This isn’t just a dream; it’s a memory.
  It looks like a birthday party.  My birthday party. I am turning three.  I could feel my excitement in my racing heart and quickened breaths.  There is a simple cake, dusted with sugar that my three-year-old hands are itching to dig into.  There are people all around; people I don’t recognize.  There are people both old and young and I wonder if they could be my family.  Next to me is a boy with an excited gleam to his eyes.  I’m positive that’s the same look I have in my eyes. As I look over, I smiled wide, and he gives me a mischievous grin back, two dimples appearing in his cheeks.  The name Bernard instantly comes to mind, and I knew it is true.  This is my brother..  The people start to sing happy birthday and I start to bounce in my seat in excitement, wishing the song would hurry up and end so I could eat a piece of cake.  A woman cuts two pieces of cake and hands them to Bernard and I, and I don’t hesitate to tear off a piece, stuffing it in my mouth.  It’s the most delicious thing my three-year-old self has ever tasted and I stuff more in my mouth.  Next to me, Bernard is tearing into his slice with the same enthusiasm.  I can’t believe how happy I feel.  It’s such a strong feeling of joy that I haven’t felt in ages.  
But then the memory changes, taking the happiness with it.  This time I’m crying and screaming “Mommy!” and “Daddy!” as loud as I can.  I’m standing in front of the house, squeezing Bernard’s hand, whose standing frozen with terror next to me.  We’re both staring horrified at the barn in front of us.  It’s encased in flame.  Ma and Pa had gone in there to feed the animals.  Soon after, Bernard and I had smelt the smoke and run out to see two of our cows and one horse come racing out in a frenzy, but no parents.  I don’t know how long we stand there, crying and screaming unable to look away, but always wanting too. It had felt like forever.  Finally, Uncle Harry and Aunt Carol had come flying up the road and pulled us into their arms, muffling our cries as they hugged us tightly.  I remember that after I was terrified to close my eyes, because every time I did, I saw the fire on the back of my eyelids. 
I wake up, sweat covering my body, and tears streaming down my face.  I wonder how I have ever forgotten that horrible night. How I could’ve forgotten the terror and heartache.  I get up and open my window, needing the fresh air to calm me down.  It is still pitch black outside, and I guess it is about four am. I know I can’t fall back asleep, even if I try, so I pull a chair to sit in by my window and breath in the cool air, letting the gentle breeze push my hair from my face. 
A few hours later, as I watch the sunrise, I finally hear my parents start moving downstairs.  I think about going down and making breakfast, but decide instead to continue to watch out the window, my dreams from the night replaying over and over in my mind.  I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping it will make it so I won’t have to watch the barn burn again, but it only makes the memory clearer.  
A knock comes at my door, and I jump, startled out of my thoughts.  “Irma?” my mother calls through the door.
“Yes?” I call back, and she opens my door, a tray in her hands.
“I thought you might want some breakfast,” she says, giving me a small smile.  You never came down like usual, so I thought I’d bring it up to you instead.” She pauses. “Is everything alright?”
I just sigh in reply as Mamma lays the tray on the windowsill next to me.  She sits on my bed staring expectantly at me.
“I had a dream last night,” I finally start.  “Well, more of a memory” Mamma c***s her head interested in what I have to say.  “It’s my third birthday.  I don’t recognize anybody except the boy sitting next to me.  Somehow, I know it’s Bernard.” Mamma just nods in reply.  I continue to tell her about the rest of the party.  I stop before mentioning the barn burning down.  The dream was still too fresh in my mind to talk about. 
“Why didn’t I remember him?” I ask, tears welling up in my eyes.  Mamma puts her hand over mine and squeezes.  I take comfort from her touch, forcing my tears back as she replies, “I don’t know Irma.  I don’t know.” I look back at her and see tears glistening in her eyes too.  Understanding that I want a little more time alone to think, she squeezes my hand one more time before standing up and walking out my door.
Eight hours later, I am walking down the road, Mamma and Papa on either side of me as we headed towards the train station. I push away all thoughts of the birthday party and the barn burning down, determined to enjoy my adventure.  As we walk, I realize that would be harder to do then expected though because the walk is long, and my bag heavy.  
The station is crowded.  The train going north is due any minute, and there are people coming both to get on the train and to find people coming off.  The second train, the one going south and the one I plan to get on, isn’t due for over a half an hour.  Papa still has to buy tickets so he wanted to come early.  Mamma and I find an empty spot of ground to set our bags down and wait.  I hear the whistle of the northbound train, and soon after it pulls up, smoke billowing from the engine.  I am awed by its size.  I can only see the top of the train as I’m not tall enough to see over people’s heads, but it is still exciting to see how big it is.  I can hear people shouting excitedly at one another mixed with the sounds of shoes hitting the wooden boards of the platform.   People are pushing everywhere, some pushing away from the platform, some pushing towards, and I watch them  curiously.  I haven't been to the train station before and the diversity of the people surprise me.  There are people I’m used to, dressed in nice clothes, but nothing too fancy.  Then there are those whose dresses and suits have so many frills and ruffles I wonder how they could have sewn them all on.  But there are also those in simple clothes; the women have aprons over their dresses and the men’s boots are covered in scuff marks. 
I turn in a circle to take all the people in, and a boy catches my eye. I stop in the middle of my circle to stare at him.  He’s staring back at me, a weird look on his face.  For a moment I think I recognize him.  There is something strangely familiar about his short red hair, muddy brown eyes and tall skinny frame, but I can’t quite figure out where from.  I hear someone come up behind me and feel Papa’s hand on my shoulder.  Mamma takes my hand, and tells me Papa’s got the tickets, so we can move closer to the platform.  I don’t break eye contact with the boy and ask Mamma, “Do you recognize that boy staring at me?” I give him a small smile.
As Mamma turns and looks at him, I can feel her protective side come out.  “No, I don’t know him.  He’s probably just a boy trying to find his family.”
“Can we help him?” I ask, both worried for the boy, but also wanting to try to figure out why I felt like I recognize him.
“No,” Mamma replies, almost immediately.  “We have a train to catch.”
I want to protest knowing the train won’t be here for a while yet.
“Come along,” she says, pulling me away, Papa following behind.  I look over my shoulder, back at the boy, giving him a small, apologetic shrug.  He is looking at me in confusion.
“Wait!” he calls.  I slow my steps, forcing Mamma to slow down with me.  “Wait!” he calls again.  “Irma wait!” 
I look over my shoulder again in surprise, but Mamma tightens her grip on me a little, and quickens our pace. This boy scares her, and she wants to protect me from him. But how did he know my name?  I watch him trying to catch up to us, but the station is still crowded and he has to push past everyone and I know he won’t catch up to us, not with Mamma pulling me as hard as she is.
“Irma! I’m brother!” he cries.
  At his words, I stop dead in my track, and Mamma stops trying to pull me.  My brother? I turn around to stare at the boy trying to reach me, and I realize why I feel like I know him.  He finally reaches me and stands, panting, in front of me.  As he stares at me I realize we have some of the same features.  We both have high cheekbones with freckles sprayed across our noses.  We both have bright red hair and slim noses. That’s all the proof I need.
“Bernard?” I whisper, feeling tears well up in my eyes.  His face splits into a giant grin and he pulls me into a tight hug.  
“I found you,” he whispers happily into my ear, tears streaming down each of our faces.  “I really found you.”

© 2014 Dearantlers

Author's Note

I wrote this for an English class. It was allowed to only be so long, so I didn't get to make much of a story and had to rush through it, but I think it turned out all right... Thanks for reading!

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Added on June 21, 2014
Last Updated on June 21, 2014



Where unicorns roam wild, dragons soar overhead, and pickles sing

I'm either a girl or a boy. I live somewhere. I like to read and write, though I'm sure you figured that one out since I'm on writerscafe. As of when I'm writing this, I'm 8672487 minutes old. Never m.. more..