TrollpastaBot
Created page with "I begin to hear it. A soft rustling behind me. I sit in a room. The center of a room. Encased in a cloak of dark. It is... Desolate. I know that is what it is, because, I hear it. I hear it calling to me when I feel low. When I feel hopeless. When I feel... Desolate. I'm not sure whether it just prefers to call itself Desolation, or is just praying off human fears. Either way it works. I feel it. Breathing. Moving. Writhing. Behind me. On my skin. In..."
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