There was a phwumping noise and a ding. Looking at the chute, a small roll of parchment lay waiting for me. It was a note about my novel.
Reading it, the writing held a message, praising my words, something this person did a lot. I felt a glow of pride, well at least somebody was listening, but I needed to do more than offer encouraging words, I'd have to act and use my limited freedom appointed to me.
"A potential alternative ending you requested:
Forever the sheep would say "my saviour" to the shepherd and "your witty words are much apreciated," then he looked at the MirrOR, Forgetting to check his scar, "regardless, we are lucky to be alive, should we have meat for supper?" then the sheep replied, "I have an idea, we have litte food and lots of freedom, name the place and we shall go," he urged.
"Indeed, thankyou for reminding me sheep, I shall cherish your words," then with that the sheep and shepherd went to feast on blissful ignorance, as always my readers, RISE TO POWER, rise above emotion and FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, from love and pain."
I finished the chapter and placed it in the chute. I'd done this so many times, met up with hopefuls and every time they ended up dying. I thought of the last two, both females, both reminded me of my girlfriend before this all happened. We had had a relationship of sorts built on secret meetings, it made it all the more exciting. Both ended up...
Personally I think they know about me, but they keep me alive so I can watch the people I love die. It's all I can do to wake up in the mornings and work when my heart is dragged down by the people that lie dead at my feet. Maybe secretly I'm their mole. Well this mole is done digging, this mole isn't gonna let another one get hurt.