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Allen Slate-Personal Narrative

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As one drives up the California coast, they will begin to notice several things. First, the general atmosphere shifts. The further north they travel from Los Angeles palms and golden beaches, the cities begin to lose their positive, sunny vibes. They go from beach villas to industrial apartments to suburban neighborhoods to run down harbor towns. The positive emotional vibrations emitted from such architecture slowly surrenders its grip on its surroundings to a grim, hopeless one. As new, booming cities fade into sleepy and ancient villages only occupied by drunken sailors and lost tourists, the traveler will soon realize they are in a much less pleasant place as where they originated their journey.

Secondly, the traveler will notice the fog.
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He was a strictly logical man, regarded as cynical and shrewd by those who had the misfortune of meeting him. He was, in general, not the kind of man who made good company on such a journey. Which is why he traveled alone. He was a narcissist, a skeptic. A manipulative, cold, emotionless man. A generally unpleasant person. And this man was no other than Allen…show more content…
Instead, a dark fog filled the room, the lights flickered. He felt his knees give out as he heard the monitor give out a long, monotone blare.

His younger self collapsed to the ground like a ragdoll dropped form a little girl's hand. Another scratch ticket appeared in Allen's hand.

God's dice chose her. You couldn't stop it. You never really had control, did you? You have lived your life running from chance, uncertainty, luck. You thought that by running from it, you could avoid it.

The door swung open again. The homeless man walked in, holding a lottery ticket. Blood stained his fingerless gloves.

His skin was pale and raw, shackles attached to broken chains were wrapped around his neck and wrists.

His eyes were glowing white. A pair of horns had sprouted from he head.

He read the card aloud, his voice cutting through the air and filling the room like coastal mist.

The words reverberated in Allen's skull. He stared down at his hands as his palms bubbled black like tar.

He felt vertigo as his neck snapped backwards.

His vision turned red. His eyes rolled back.

The demonic words played one more time in his head. Hear that? that's the sound your fate. The sound of dice rolling.

Happy
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