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Through the almost painful silence that permeated the area burst a cacophony of sounds. Though they’d ordinarily not have drawn his attention in the densely populated places he favoured back home, the stark silence they cut through made them all the louder. A soft sobbing nearby was struck through with a desperate cry from a familiar voice for anyone in the area not to run away.

It was this eruption of noise that uprooted Oskar from the task with which he’d immersed himself for the past while. A long daisy chain spilled from his lap and onto the ground beside him, steadily growing with every passing minute. He’d removed his gloves – a newly bought, studded pair from a local secondhand store – and stuffed them into his back pocket to make the intricate art of weaving the flowers together an easier one.

He didn’t allow himself a moment to ponder how he ought to react to the girl. Instead, he let instinct take over.

“I’m here,” he called out in response, trying not to let an ounce of fear leak into his words. “It’s Oskar!”

The voice that flew from his lips was just as chirpy and effervescent as he’d always made it be. Throughout the trepidation and uncertainty that plagued him, his ability to flip that switch and become the happy-go-lucky boy he wanted everybody to think he was hadn’t yet been lost to him.

He smiled.

Oskar pulled his cardigan closer to his chest, and contemplated gathering his belongings together and going in search of company. But after awhile, he decided to stay put for the moment and let them come to him. He didn’t want to be an unwelcome addition to any group, after all.
Version Seven:
Tristan O’Hara
Dorothea Rodriguez
Ariana Simpson

Past Characters:
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God Help the Outcasts · Crematorium Gardens