Oh, I'm Good. Seriously, After

Such A Display Of Death - How Could It Be Considered A Victory?

I Sent A Lot Of Publishing Ideas To My Publisher, About 30 Of Them. Each Time Except 3, I Got A "rejection Letter". This Is Basically What A Rejection Letter Is Like: Hello Pathetic Moron, We Read Your Book. It Sucked. Don't Send Us Another One. If You Do, We Will Run Over Your Grandmother With A Bus. Don't Do It. From, Your Publisher

If You Ain’t Scared… You Ain’t Human.

He Pulled The Envelope Out Of His Pocket And Ripped It Open, Then Took Out The Slip Of Paper. The Soft Lights That Ringed The Mirror Lit Up The Message In A Warm Glow. It Was Two Short Sentences: " Kill Me. If You've Ever Been My Friend, Kill Me.

Thomas Swallowed, Wondering How He Could Ever Go Out There. His Desire To Become A Runner Had Taken A Major Blow. But He Had To Do It. Somehow He Knew He Had To Do It. It Was Such An Odd Thing To Feel, Especially After What He'd Just Seen... Thomas Knew He Was A Smart Kid- He Somehow Felt It In His Bones. But Nothing About This Place Made Any Sense. Except For One Thing. He Was Supposed To Be A Runner. Why Did He Feel That So Strongly? And Even Now, After Seeing What Lived In The Maze?