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You called me a liar, a manipulator.

I would prefer the term- creative and imaginative.

After all, what is real anyway?

You couldn't even comprehend the nature of this realm, even after all these years.

Besides, what you believed as fact may not be true after all.

Don't blame me for making you question it all now. Your own kind was the one who fabricate all those myths and legends that they passed for so many generations.

You glorified them. You dreamed of them. You wished that they were real.

So why do you reject me now?

I am the truth that you wanted.

I am the tales that they all told.

Have they forgot about me?

Who am I again?

Their imaginary friend?

Their sleep paralysis demon?

Why is that important anyway?

Why do you question what is real and not?

After all, you'll forget all the unsavory taste, the bitterness of pain and loneliness, here with me and everyone.

...Once I'm done tinkering with your head...

Oh, I wouldn't struggle so much if I were you, wanderer. The chair is not so sturdy, and the floor is rather dusty.

Don't worry, I will clean the room soon. Maybe in an hour; maybe in a day; likely in a month. There's millions of more important matters here.

Why yes, you're not alone.

Why of course, I'll bring them here soon.

So be good, and I'll be back with your bedtime story.

For now, why don't you just sit here for a little longer, in this little room, and enjoy the warmth of the fireplace while I brew some tea?

After all, we have an endless amount of time, with an endless amount of stories.

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