Super Trick or Treat System

My father calmed me down by guaranteeing their welfare, and he tried to increase my depression by focusing on these interesting issues in my heart. But he soon felt that prison could not be a happy residence. "Where do you live, my son!" he said, looking sadly at the forbidden window and the poor room. "You travel in search of happiness, but death seems to be in pursuit of you. And poor Kleval-"

The name of my unfortunately murdered friend was so emotional that I couldn't bear it in my weak state. I shed tears.

"Oh! Yes, my father," I replied. "Some of the most terrible destinies loom over me, and I must live to achieve it, otherwise I should definitely die on Henry's coffin."

We are not allowed to talk at any time because my health is unstable and all necessary precautions have been taken to ensure peace. Mr. Ke Wen came in and insisted that my strength should not be exhausted by too much effort. But my father was like my good angel to me, and I gradually recovered my health.

When my illness stopped me, I was attracted by a gloomy and melancholic melancholy, and nothing could be eliminated. The image is always before me, shocking and murdered. These reflexes made me excited, and more than once made my friends fear a dangerous relapse. Alas! Why do they keep such a miserable and abominable life? There is no doubt that I can realize my destiny, and this destiny is now nearing its end. Soon, oh, soon, death will extinguish these movements, free me from heavy pain and overwhelm me. Moreover, I will also sink to rest during the execution of the justice ruling. At that time, the expression of death was out of reach, although this wish has always been in my mind. I often sit motionless and speechless for hours,

The dressing season is here. I have been in prison for three months. Although I am still weak and in constant danger of relapse, I have to travel nearly a hundred miles to the country town where the court is located. Mr. Ke Wen is personally responsible for collecting witnesses and arranging my defense. I was not spared the humiliation of appearing publicly as a criminal because the case was not submitted to the court that decided life or death. The grand jury rejected the bill because it proved to be on the Orkney Islands when the body of my friend was found; two weeks after my deportation, I was released from prison.

My father was ecstatic to discover that I was spared the trouble of criminal charges, because I was allowed to breathe fresh air again and was allowed to return to my home country. I did not participate in these feelings, because to me, the walls of dungeons or palaces are annoying. The life of life is always poisoned to death. Although the sun shines on me, just like inner happiness and homosexuality, there is only a thick and terrible darkness around me, nothing can be seen, only the twinkling light of my eyes is on me. Sometimes they are Henry's expressive eyes, weak in death, the dark sphere is almost covered by the eyelids, and the long black eyelashes make them linger. Sometimes it is the watery eyes of monsters, like I saw them once in Ingolstadt's room.

Father tried to awaken my feelings. He talked about Elizabeth and Ernest's Geneva, and I will visit soon. But these words only attracted me. Sometimes, indeed, I feel longing and happy desire for my beloved cousin or the melancholy pleasure that I yearn for, and with the sickness of swallowing, I see the blue lake and the fast Rhone again, which was right when I was a child It is very precious to me; but my overall feeling is a kind of torture. The prison in the prison is as popular as the most sacred sight in nature. These adaptations are rarely interrupted, just because of episodes of pain and despair. At these moments, I often try to end the existence that I hate, and it requires constant attendance and vigilance in order to limit my horrible acts of violence.

However, I still have a duty, and the memory of it finally overcomes my selfish despair. It is necessary for me to go back to Geneva immediately and watch the life of someone I love so much, and lie there waiting for the murderer, just in case there is a chance to take me to his hiding place, or if he dares to come with his presence again Shocking me, I may end the existence of that terrible image with an unwavering goal, and this image is made even more terrifying because of my soul's mockery. My father still hopes to postpone our travel time, worrying that I cannot bear the fatigue of the journey, because I am a broken wreck, a shadow of human beings. My strength is gone. I am just a skeleton, wasting my frame day and night.

Nevertheless, when I urged us to leave Ireland so calmly and impatiently, my father thought it was best to give in. We sailed to the ship bound for Graves-de-Grace and sailed off the coast of Ireland. It was midnight. I lay on the deck, looking at the stars and listening to the impact of the waves. I cheered for the darkness that was invisible to Ireland, and when I thought of seeing Geneva soon, my pulse was filled with fanatic joy. The past is revealed in the dream I dream of. However, the ship I was on, the wind blowing from the coveted Irish coast and the sea surrounding me, all told me too much that I was not deceived by my sight, and my friend and dearest companion Kleval fell. The victims of me and the monsters I created. In memory, I spent my whole life. The quiet happiness of living in Geneva with my family, the death of my mother and my journey to Ingolstadt. I remember that the trembling crazy enthusiasm inspired my creation of my terrible enemy, and I remembered the night he once lived. I can't follow the train of thought. A thousand feelings pressed on me, and I cried in pain.

Since the fever recovered, I have been accustomed to taking a small amount every night, because only with this medicine can I get the rest of my life. Recalling all my misfortunes, I now swallowed twice the usual amount, and soon fell asleep. But sleep does not make me breathe from thoughts and pain. My dream showed a thousand things that scared me. In the morning, I fell into a nightmare. I feel the grip of the devil on my neck and cannot get rid of it. Moaning and crying came from my ears. Looking at my father and feeling my anxiety, I was awakened. The waves are rough, the sky is cloudy, the devil is not here: a sense of security,

twenty two

The voyage is over. We landed and then headed to Paris. I soon discovered that I had exhausted my strength, and I had to pose before moving on. My father's care and attention is endless, but he didn't know the source of my suffering and sought the wrong way to remedy this incurable disease. He wants me to have fun in society. I hate men's faces. Oh, don't hate it! They are my brothers and my compatriots. For the angelic celestial bodies and celestial creatures, I even feel attracted to the most repelling of them. But I feel I have no right to share their sexual intercourse. I released an enemy among them, their happiness is to bleed and revel in their chants. How could they hate me and hunt me from the world,

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