MITCHELL ASKS A LOT OF QUESTIONS.
I stand at the old rustic doorbell weeping.
I say to myself “this is all that’s left of what burned down.”
I ring it, nothing happens. Then I hear a faint noise ‘ring-ring’.
My face turns pale. I think to myself, how does the doorbell still worK?
I open the door slowly and see nothing, but then out of the corner of my eye I see a little homeless girl, hiding just behind the door. Reaching out my hand, I realise she’s not really here, it’s just a ghost.
“What? How? When?”
I run fast, faster than I have before…
MITCHELL = YEAR 7
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