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"Is, is anyone there?" Mike said, holding on to the camera. He was sitting on a log in a forest. His clothes were battered and dirty, his eyes sleepless. The showing was blurry and green. "No, there isn't. Well, I knew there wasn't any fan that would wait for months without notice." Mike said. Sounds of leaves rustling sounds rang out. "I'm not gonna last long. I-I don't know how I lasted this long. For 5 months, I kept my sanity and life. But this is the end, bye." Mike's eyes were sullen with eyebags underneath. His left leg had a branch sticking out, and sounds of leaves rustling only came closer. The camera turned around, showing a man with a knife. His face was unseeable, and the static only grew.

"Come at me, you bastard," Mike said quietly, done with all of the torture. With only a long branch, he came at the old man who was holding a knife.

 

 

 

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