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This diary entry is written by ‹fℓєυя ∂є ℓιѕ›. ( View all entries )
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Friday, 1 July 2011
05:34:11 PM (GMT)
chapter one of sleep young anabelle.
Anabelle Kristina, that's what she went by. She was a petite girl with a moral lack for brushing her hair and wearing matching clothes. Her older brother, Steven, called her Tacky. And after a while her parents called her that too. It stuck quicker than Anabelle Kristina, mostly because it was shorter and easier to say. It also made a lot more sense than a pretty name like that for a strange and ratty little girl. Annabelle is about sixteen, and looks about twelve for her small and delicate frame. She lingers in her room with a pen and paper and explaining her wildest dreams without words but long and hard strokes of a pencil that only lives to see the light of one day. This particular night her father and mother were out on their anniversary living it up to the fullest. Her big brother was in his room, probably speaking online with his xbox friends, or sleeping. She figured it definitely wasn't the latter because she could hear him hollaring from his room. Steven came downstairs to her room, clearing his throat in which he'd already strained to bark at his party members for being such horrible gamers, to speak. "Are you going to make dinner or am I supposed to go hungry?" Anabelle glanced over at him, "Maybe next time. You already weigh enough to feed a starving villiage in Africa twice." The male huffed with rage and turned on his heel and found his way back up to the bedroom he lived in. A medium sized dog padded his hefty way into the room of Anabelle and laid down by the side of the bed in his mangled red bed with "Toxic" written around the side of the coushion. It figures, that was the name of the mutt. He was a fluffy dog that Anabelle took home against her parent's will and after a night of crying and screaming they finally let the girl just keep the darned animal. From what they could tell he was an akita or a husky or something. Maybe a mix of both, but that was neither here nor there. The dog with the black nose and white muzzle tip looked up to her with a near smile and closed his clear blue eyes, which semed to be covered by black. Around the white tipped muzle black started and went up his face, while the white streake a thin line from the center of his muzzle up to right where his ears started in the center. The rest of him was white and beige, and black tipping some of the ends of his fur along his back, all the way down to his tail that curled up behind him. She reached down and pet this beautiful dog, rubbing behind his pointed and soft ears, and he returned the favor by licking her hand. She smiled down at him and then shifted on the bed a little and put her paper and pencil away. She turned off the light and left her door open for the dog to go in and out and crawled under the sheets. Anabelle fell asleep for a little, and woke up around 2:43, as the clock on her nightstand said. She heard a dripping in the bathroom across the hall and figured that Steven hadn't turned the water off all the way, so she just turned over and covered her ear with one hand. After a little while she just sighed and rolled onto her back and let her hand over the side of her bed, waiting for the acknoledging lick from her dog which she recieved after a few seconds. She figured that everything was alright and turned onto her stomach and fell asleep. The next morning she got up and her dog wasn't there, and the obnoxious dripping had stopped. She figured that maybe Steven had Toxic, so she just walked into the kitchen and made some coffee before slowly making her way to the bathroom. Anabelle pushed open the door slowly and yawned, quickly stopping at a foul smell. She turned on the fan and then turned, "Steven, flush next time!" she hollard. She walked over to the toilet and flushed it, and begun to wash her face, brush her teeth and her hair. She grabbed a towel like usual and turned, tugging at the black curtain and dropping everything she had in her hands at the sight. What was in front of her was her dog hanging by the shower head with his stomach cut out and laid out on the tub of the shower, and 'People can lick too' written on the wall in her dog's blood. She turned and with a swift thrust of her wrist she closed the curtain and then begun to vomit violently into the sink. She ran upstairs to her brothers room to find the door locked. Her heart dropped through her stomach and she slowly went downstairs and grabbed the portable and called nine one one.
Last edited: 1 July 2011

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