The Journal

That weekend I caught the bus - which only comes every Saturday - to the nearest town, and bought myself a little leather-bound book. Blank, of course.

I figured that if I was going to spend so much time at the Sanctuary - which I had been, around six hours every day this week - I was going to need something to do. Reading was out due to my incredibly slow pace. Granted it would have taken time up, but it would have got a bit tedious. So writing was my number one option.

Normally I'd write on my laptop - the one thing that I looked forward to about leaving the Sanctuary - but obviously I couldn't carry it for a mile or so, and I doubt the battery would hold out that long. Stupid Windows '98...

So I would have to buy myself a fancy book and a fancy pen.

Obviously I ould have cheaped it out, but I felt that I needed to create a good look - the calm and relaxed writer, sitting in the middle of the woods, listening to the sounds of nature and keeping a journal of my thought.

Sounded good to me!

I eventually found this beautiful leather-bound book. A little smaller than A4 size, and perfect to fit my ridiculously large handwriting. I bought it without even checking the price, and went to spend the remainder of my weekly budget on a decent pen - preferably one that wouldn't run out within twenty minutes of not even writing.

Outrageously overpriced, pens are. Around twelve pounds for one that held itself together reasonably well. Unfortunately I bought it. I guess I'd just have to consider this as more of an investment than an actual writing implement.

Upon arrival at home I dashed straight out the door, headed to the one place that I ever wanted to be.

Looking forward to starting my real life as a writer, with my journal and pen clutched to my chest, I sprinted towards the Sanctuary for as long as I could - before the horrible effects of my unhealthy diet kicked in.

The End

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