Manderoo~. c: That's my new nickname for you.
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:18pm
Thread Topic: Manderoo~. c: That's my new nickname for you.
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Sleep pulled at the edges of his consciousness once more. He yawned before falling into a light nap. He was still aware of his mother by his side. His body felt vulnerable and threatened once her warm presence had faded.
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She had a dreamless sleep.
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Time skip?
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Yesh. :3
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How about a few weeks later?
Relatives were frantically trying to book plane tickets to visit Christopher. They knew his time was ticking away, and they wanted to say their last goodbyes... Though they'd barely ever said hello anyway. Over the past few weeks, his condition had slowly worsened. His skin was now as white as it could possibly get. He spent about half of the day sleeping, and when he did wake he had to work just to make his way to the bathroom. He was thin and fragile, almost all skin and bones. The spark and life seemed to fade from his eyes, leaving a dead, hollow blue. -
Sounds good.
Jenifer worriedly walked to Chris's house, knowing his time was in a few days. She wiped a tear that was forming in the corner of her eye, frantically blinking. -
Christopher stared at the small moleskin journal that he'd requested his mother bring to him the previous night. He had to write a letter... One final letter... He decided he'd wait until he could feel himself slip away to do so.
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Jenifer walked up to the door of his house, forcing herself to remain calm. She knocked on the door softly.
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Christopher's eyes flickered towards the front door. He heard his mother walk through the kitchen and open the door. She gestured for Jenifer to come inside, her expression one of pure and utter devastation. "He's in the living room," she whispered. Her voice was weighed down by sorrow, depression.
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Jenifer nodded and walked into the living room. She couldn't help but feel worse when she saw how he looked, but she forced her expression to remain calm.
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"Hi," he said, his voice a mere whisper. He attempted to smile at her. The expression seemed out of place on his ghost like figure.
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She sat beside him, she couldn't stand to see him like this. "How are you feeling?" She whispered, though she already knew the answer.
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He glanced down at the floor. "Bad." The word came out as a rush of air, barely audible.
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She looked down, hating this feeling of uselessness.
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"Could you do me a favor?" he asked, looking up at her.
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