In a quiet room the soft sounds of fluttering pages played. A book, its cover of black leather and silver lining, read by searching eyes.
This book was Alistair's diary, journal, notebook, and artbook. In understandable terms it was truly a one-in-all, allowing him to plan out everything in this life… nothing too important though.
Because a cautious individual never writes important private details in a personal book—without at least having a secret code of course. This secret code: Alistair dubbed alis-speak.
(How imaginative)
On the first page, it was simply PP doodlings since his mind travelled to places before intelligent words intruded.
The later pages however, took a more diary-tuned format.
~These people are trying to brainwash me, because their lullabies and sing-songs are driving me insane.
Whatever Deity, god or Buddha residing beyond this realm of existence, please relieve me from torment…
