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06/07/10(Mon)21:14 No.10348445rolled 1 = 1
>>10348432 When I woke up here, today, I found two things that were noteworthy. One was, very obviously, the desk. None of the other rooms still have desks ever since what Jenkins did in '76. Not in Ward 3, anyway. But the other thing of note is that the draw you've most likely found this in, the draw that you KNOW has a false bottom, a planks of wood just as decrepit as the rest of this desk, as the rest of this room, on top of many, many pills, and this notebook.
I don't know what happened to whoever originally owned this notebook. What was here before I started writing this diary was a mess of scribbles, a plethora of various notes and diagrams and maps. None of them made sense. So what, you say? Meds stashed away with a notebook filled with paranoid ramblings? One of the inmates had paranoid delusions.
Again, friend, you'd be wrong. Not one. Look at the torn bindings before this page. There is a LOT of them. In fact, based on the different pens, writing styles, clarity of the writings, and very obviously, the dates, I've deduced something. This notebook didn't belong to one person. It belonged to seven others before me, and thus, before you.
So, what's important about this book? What made me start writing this... diary? Journal? This is more of a warning. I couldn't tell what everyone before me was talking about (It'd be useless to you, I promise), but one thing, at the end of every person's notes, the most clear thing any of them ever wrote, was one sentence. It's the reason I'm writing this, and the reason I'm trying to warn you.
"Beware Ward 14".
If you're new here, here's the problem: there is no Ward 14. |