By Spilvenr MK Windsinger
It was cold inside that bag. Not a room temperature cold, but almost like a black void cold, and I felt like reaching inside would suck me in. Well, my soul at least. The sounds which came from the jet stained nothingness were of monstrous, penetrating cries, and sadistic laughter. Women weeping streams of horror, and many children moaning in agony as one voice. Strange to think I held a bag to another dimension, and given to me by a stranger.
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