Number 394

Early Memories

Excuse my poor handwriting, but I was shaken awake this morning by the same man who locked me here, and was told to get to work immediately. Apparently, this is how I will carry out my days here until they dispose of my body, or whatever they decide to do once they're done.

As I'm staring over this list, I've noticed that the handwriting is scrawled and nearly illegible which I assume is due to the questions being hastily written as I made my way to my room. Then again, the man presented me with the questions once I had reached my room, and he had been with me the whole time.

This lab is confusing already. Why couldn't they have just printed a list for me instead of forcing me to try and translate this mess, and where did this list come from? I suppose that those questions are not valid here, as my opinion means nothing to these men of intense fact and knowledge.

The man has decided to hover over my shoulder to make sure I'm consistently writing, so I'll make this worth his time.

London bridge is falling down,

Falling down, falling down.

London bridge is falling down,

My fair la

-

Note to self: 

Do not make higher authorities angry in this lab.

-

I'm uncertain of why I'm being rebellious now, of all times. I apologize, and I will try to keep this new found habit out of my writing unless necessary.

To begin, the first item on this list is to write about my childhood, which is difficult. I have absolutely no clue on how long I've been under, and I'm guessing that they don't want me to write the obvious facts such as my first failure or my first love. Now, that would be too easy.

No, I'm thinking more along the lines of my family, and my strongest memories.

At least, that's what the list suggests. 

So I'll begin here. 

I was a small child in the sense of both height and personality. Always the quiet one, I never bothered to speak unless I was asked, I was hungry or perhaps when I wished to posses a toy that would seem ridiculous to me now. Other than these instances, I wouldn't talk to put the situation simply.

Then, I found literature.

I discovered a new way to inform and teach others without saying a word. You could say that this project these men have assigned to me is not unknown, and I will try not to disappoint whoever finds this.

As a child, I surpassed my classmate's skills in writing, and took to the subject naturally. I was always hungry for more, and would constantly bother my brother and teachers to tell me more about writing and different techniques.

I loved writing, and I still do to this day.

This list also asks about who I lived with, my parents, siblings and a normal day in my household.

Now why would I want to write about that when I could be writing about an adventure on the seas with deafening battles, or a thrilling psychological horror that gives chills? Wouldn't that be more entertaining? Wouldn't that be better than my old, boring lifestyle?

Well, if this is what the men here want, then that is what they'll get. Nothing more, nothing less.

That last line sounded terribly poetic; perhaps I will pursue poetry soon.