The story of the young J.C. Rudolph continues to evolve as he moves one step closer to discovering the truth of his dreams, and the world of his creation.
July 31st, 1956
I keep reminding myself that they were mine to begin with. I didn’t steal them. The Sister took them from me. They were mine.
She’s not happy about it. Convinced of my part in the disappearance of my stories and drawings–those she kept under safe guard in a locked closet in her room–the Sister has taken to wild rants about the evil that possesses me and dolled out even harsher penalties than she’s ever handed down before. The day following their disappearance, now four days ago, I spent the entirety of a full day in the Closet. I’ve been there countless times before, but for never more than a handful of hours. I believe that the Sister was convinced a day without food, or the appropriate means by which to address the pressing matter of my personal needs, would instill within me the need to tell the…
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