When I was very small, my mother decided she had gotten fed up with me and thus brought me to closest nursery.
Obviously, I had no idea of what was happening as I clutched my mothers hand and admired the many colors around me. After all those moments segregated at home, the fresh air of freedom felt freshadelicious (Yes, I invent words, sue me)
We reached the nursery, which my mother described as beautiful:
However what I saw in that area, was fear eaten by terror in a cloak of atrocity and death. (Damn, I should be a writer, check out these words)
Then suddenly my mother wretched off from my grip and run as fast as she could away abandoning me to a premature death, or so I thought. Growing, i understood that by doing so, she herself had become free.
Below you may observe an accurate representation of how I saw the nursery at age 3, yes maybe I was a sick child or am I still now?
The monsters were coming at me with their tentacular arms, as I turned around I saw that the area had transformed into a post apocalyptic setting. Even the trees had grown tentacles to hold weapons and flying chainsaws vaulted around as crashing cars burnt down through the street. Oh you think I’m exaggerating? Keep reading…
I turned around to run behind me I heard a pack of wolfs hunting me down. Then suddenly, I tripped on a rock, not a common rock, it was Ser Stone de La Muerte (As I later called him).
He was so evil that he had swords on his swords. He made me trip in a pit of darkness.
When I opened my eyes, the “playground” (as it was supposedly called) had transformed in a warfare area from WW2. Planes were shooting above me and bombs fell as I left behind my legs to squirm for safety.
Then suddenly, a voice called my name. I looked up and a blonde woman was standing above me, claiming to be my teacher.
Later that day she asked my mum what my mental problems were and how she could help. My mother has always treated me differently since.
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