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Ragitsu

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Re: Ctrl+V

 

I had always thought crickets to be loathsome insects. I wished the constant chirping would cease. While I awaited the old carver's return, and to distract myself from the noise of the crawling thing loose in his workship, I diverted myself with viewing the products of his craft. One item in particular, seated on a chair that was surely made for it, at first caught my attention and then repelled it. It was a little manikin with a comically long nose, skillfully put together, painted, and dressed quaintly in garments that might have come right off of the youngest and smallest of the lads I had seen at play in the winding streets of this ancient village. It was so lifelike I found it disturbing, so I turned to look at the old man's other stock, and it suddenly seemed that the song of the crawler grew even louder. Absurdly, I thought I heard words in its endless repetition, be good, be good, be good. Despite the old man's superstitious admonition I thought of crushing the filthy insect and turned towards the sound, and found my eyes meeting a painted pair of eyes that were not nearly lifeless enough. I no longer wanted the cricket's silence. A dread had come on me that this dull and banal song was the only thing that stood between myself and some terrible fate. My heartbeat was near as loud now as the chirping, for the wooden thing's face had not been turned towards me a moment ago. It had moved when my back was turned.

 

 

Lucius Alexander

 

Palindromedary Enterprises

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I had always thought crickets to be loathsome insects. I wished the constant chirping would cease. While I awaited the old carver's return' date=' and to distract myself from the noise of the crawling thing loose in his workship, I diverted myself with viewing the products of his craft. One item in particular, seated on a chair that was surely made for it, at first caught my attention and then repelled it. It was a little manikin with a comically long nose, skillfully put together, painted, and dressed quaintly in garments that might have come right off of the youngest and smallest of the lads I had seen at play in the winding streets of this ancient village. It was so lifelike I found it disturbing, so I turned to look at the old man's other stock, and it suddenly seemed that the song of the crawler grew even louder. Absurdly, I thought I heard words in its endless repetition, be good, be good, be good. Despite the old man's superstitious admonition I thought of crushing the filthy insect and turned towards the sound, and found my eyes meeting a painted pair of eyes that were not nearly lifeless enough. I no longer wanted the cricket's silence. A dread had come on me that this dull and banal song was the only thing that stood between myself and some terrible fate. My heartbeat was near as loud now as the chirping, for the wooden thing's face had not been turned towards me a moment ago. [i']It had moved when my back was turned[/i].

 

Call of Pinocchio?

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