Sunbather
Le photographe est mort
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Please remember our dream house.
I need you to be there.
I need you to be strong.
I need you to remember our dream house.
Hey you...
I'm so sorry for what you've been through. I wish I could make it better. I wish I could make it all go away. I know it hurts, but I just... I just need you here, okay? A least a little longer. I love you. Make sure you understand that, okay, sweety? And tell the others as well.
The failed father.
The depressed weakling.
The neglected child.
The ill sprout.
The abused family.
The violated soul.
The addicted misfit.
This is for all of you, and everyone else. We love you.
Hello! This is an idea I had for a bit. It'd revolve around a group of various demographics (the above list gives some ideas. I'd like to see more than a house full of angsty teens, but the mentioned roles aren't a must.) that have attemtped to commit suicide. They don't know each other nor do they don't care for each other. What they do share is their burden. Whether it's real, a matter of perception or just an unfortunate draw in the lottery that is life - They had settled with death, bursting at the pain and suffering they had to endure. But they failed. Or... got lucky. They don't wake up bloodied or ill on their bathroom floor or hooked to a machine in the hospital though... They wake up in this house. White, large spaces, breezy. The outside seems to consist of an endless occean and these smooth, white beaches. Is this heaven?
IMPORTANT:
This WILL contain - inevitably - themes of dealing with abuse, be it domestic or sexual, assault, drugs, mental illness and much more. This will be dark. I mean, DARK! You were warned.
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