Chapter 3

As I write this, I am sitting at my desk in my bedroom, my head resting on my arm in front of me, glancing up at the clock every couple of moments. I know I need to get my story down on paper; my semester grade depends on it. Up until now I thought I'd done rather well, at least for an unexperienced writer. But now, my story snowballs into something that only me, Toby, Jack, Lacey, Patrick, Matthew, and Jonas believe. The police don't. My parents don't. My friends, teachers, classmates don't. The media doesn't. Andrew, my brother and best friend, doesn't even  believe me.

Only the seven of us that were there, and saw it for ourselves, believe it.

This is where you, as the reader, has to make a choice.

You can turn the page and continue to read the story, and immediately dismiss every extraordinary thing that occured as a figment of a drugged girl's imagination.

Or.

You can turn the page and continue to read the story, keeping an open mind that is willing to accept that some things cannot be explained, no matter how hard you try to.

So. What's your choice?

The End

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