Finley Cai Aies Hall March 28th, 20XX
The book that I could now identify as a diary closed gently. It was a sharp contrast to the harsh ceremony of ruffling pages it had performed earlier, but it did nothing to soothe the raging ocean of emotions I currently battled. The two dangling ropes pulled themselves off the floor and entwined themselves into a beautifully intricate lock that was more complex than it had been before.
I shifted my attention to the other items in the box; needing to find something to get my mind off of the video.
The baton sparkled enticingly as I rolled it around in my palm and occasionally let out a few sparks as a warning that it was still active. I tossed it between each hand a few times but it would only let out a few half-hearted sparks. There wasn’t anything
