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The Cookie Factory // A Semi-Fantasy Novel

Novel By: Nanna Marie Andersen

Have you ever thought about the complexity of the mind? It stores your relationships, your knowledge and yourself. What would you do if the memories, that made you who you were, just disappeared? Could you say you wouldn't go insane?

Melina was born in a mental institution - or so she was told. The problem is: Melina doesn't remember being rescued from the mental institution, where she was found clinging to life on a dirty cell floor.
Melina sets out to found the truth about her origins, but her journey take a gruesome turn, and she ends up in a nightmare without end - will she learn the truth about her tormented past? Or will she relive the torment she's trying to escape? View table of contents...


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Submitted:Jan 30, 2010    Reads: 208    Comments: 20    Likes: 8   



Cookie Factory



"Cookies are most commonly baked until crisp or just long enough that they remain soft. Cookies are made in a wide variety of styles, using an array of ingredients including sugars, spices, chocolate, butter, peanut butter, nuts or dried fruits. The softness of the cookie may depend on how long it is baked."





The light flickered in the small room and a stench of decay and excrements hit my nose as I tried to breath. For some reason the thick air didn't enter my lungs as it ought too.

I cough and felt my ribcage snap several places. I expected to feel to extreme pain, but nothing happened. Every time I tried to breath, my broken ribs rubbed against each other - making an awful sound inside my broken body.

I was laying on the floor of a small cell, the broken lamp illuminated the room from time to time, but my eyes were to sensitive to stay open for more than a couple of seconds.

The shadows glided over the walls, fabricating creatures out of the blackness. They laughed at me, tease my fragile mind to the edge of my sanity - if it wasn't lost already.

I started crying a bit, the tears felt too warm on face as they slided quickly into my hair line. My left arm was limp and my right arm was thick from all the bruises and red dots decorating it. I could tell a needle had penetrated my skin more than once and had left me with infected puncture wounds and dried blood covering my arm and body.

I knew I couldn't move, my legs felt heavy and numb - maybe my spin had fractured, but I couldn't be sure. My small panicked gulps of air made me feel lightheaded and dizzy - well, more dizzy than I was to begin with.

The room was completely darkened when the light flicked off, and there was no windows to inform me whether it was day or night outside. The thought about day and night, led to the thought about which date it was. I didn't even know what year it was. And just as confusion started to set in, tears began running freely down my panicked face, the tears blurred my vision even more.

About the same time as I realized that I couldn't remember my own name, the heavy door swung open and the light were cast over me and for some reason I though I was saved.

My eyes barely focused on the people entering the room before I felt a needle getting stabbed into my chest. I screamed for no good reason, the pain never spread. I only felt my chest tighten as the liquid oozed down into my body and the two people hovering over me soon dissolved before my eyes and the darkness entered my mind again.

I was alone with myself - it was like begin alone with a complete stranger. I was the stranger, the one not meant to be in my head. Everything was wrong, but I didn't get the time to correct anything. I was apparently doomed to live with the intruder, in this awful hellhole - this hospital of some kind.

I was begging for death to strike me down, but I wasn't that lucky. The blackness in my mind erased my thoughts and memory - as it may have done thousands of times, who knows? I had lost myself yet again, I thought to myself, and my mind was a never ending whole without any memory to sustain its sanity. If death wasn't waiting for me in the darkness, I would have to seek him out myself. But what if death wouldn't want to be found? How would I know when I found him - if I ever would?

Well, I found him - but he wasn't who I'd expected him to be. He was just a man - a broken piece just like me. He told me to wake up, so I did.


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