Joe Hawke’s Diary Entry

I look down on the tree I’m on.. I gaze at least at one hundred men with mask and blowtorches, they march really aggressively. I almost fall off. This smell is worst than stinky socks, chemically burnt wood is not something you want to smell. My ears ringing to the sound of women and children crying and men trying to fight the hundred men with blowtorches. I’ll take a look.. all I see is burning houses and people in terror. I open my mouth and chemically smoke burrows into my taste buds. I gag while trying to breathe. I feel sick and confused there is too much going on. Next thing I know I’ve fallen off the tree and hit my head..

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