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Unformatted text preview: er an infant at all but a hideous mannequin of sorts, for though it had not changed physically, a grown man was inside it and manipulating it, and spoke now, in a gurgling voice. "I am Lasher. See me here." "Grow, grow strong!" declared Marguerite, holding up both her fists. "Julien, command it to grow. Stare at its arms and legs. Command them to grow." I did, and against all I believed I saw that its little legs and arms were lengthening. Indeed, the eyes of the infant, pale blue at birth, were now suddenly dark brown, and its hair slowly darkened as well as though absorbing a dark liquid. Its skin on the other hand began to pale; color pulsed in its cheeks. Its legs for one instant were stretched like tentacles. And then the little thing died. Just died. Let out a cry, and died. And Marguerite grabbed it off the bed, and threw it at the dresser 271 mirror. The little one splashed with blood and gore on the glass but didn't break it and down it tumbled, one nameless dead chil...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10