Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
A character from an old novel wakes up in your spare room. You must help them adjust by guiding them through 21st century life.
How will you help them to navigate this world?
Writings
âThe Great Plague is no more!!!â Sia shrieked, as tears fell like crystals across her face.
The Plague had killed, destroyed, eliminated everything and everyone. Seeing a human was like finding a rare gem.
People nowadays complain about wearing a mask, but everyday a gas mask was glued to Siaâs face.
âAm I really freeâŠMister?â She softly asked.
âNoâŠlook at your gas maskâŠâ I sternly say.
Sia froze in horror, and she clutched it tightly.
âI canât remove itâŠSirâ
âArenât I breathing! Arenât I alive! What more could you possible wantâ I yell.
I shouldnât have gotten angry, but she should get a grip on reality. She should be grateful for the chance of being able to escape from her world.
âSorry, but I donât regret my anger!â I reply.
I huff and puff, taking in as much air as possible, to show it was safe.
Sia looked nervous, but she watched through her mask. She almost looked enchantedâmaybe it was the idea of being able to breathe like a normal human.
While, Sia watched in awe, I slowly moved closer and smiled at her. I then ripped the gas mask off her face.
She yelped and her face was frozenâin fear, confusion and betrayal.
Sia held her breathe in terror, as she angrily glared at me.
She held, and held and held, until her face was pale.
âJust let it goâŠ.â I calmly say, as I scratched my head.
How can one be so afraid of the air? Was the Plague really that bad?
Then again seeing this 10 year old, I fear the worst
The fresh air that Sia breathed in, was nostalgic yet surprisingly haunting. She couldnât trust it. What if she brought the plague with her? What if this world has something worse than the plague?
Sia gently gazed up at me.
âItâs delicious isnât?â I softly say, as the anger evaporated into bubbles of joy.
âItâsâŠdeliciousâŠâ as she began sobbing.
Nobody else could see him. But I could. I woke up , to a strange voice coming through my wall. I didn't recognise it, so I went to have a look in the next room. To my surprise, sitting on the bed, looking most bewildered was a boy, around my age, in ragged clothes and an old cap. He looked like he had been down a mine or something. He was filthy! âHello, where have you come from?â I ask, not really phased that some unknown person was in the house. The boy looked up and gave a weak smile. âIâm josh.â He looked around, really studying the room. Almost like everything in it was alien to him. He picked up a lego brick from the floor and fiddled with it, examining the plastic. âWhatâs this thenâ he asked. I couldnât believe he had no idea what Lego was. I explained about the Lego, and what you do with it. Pulling out the drawer of Lego, the boys eyes widened at the array of colours. âWow, I have never seen anything like it!â He exclaimed, rummaging through. Clearly this boy was either very new to Lego, or very new to everything. I decided to test him. â I have some questions. Firstly, whatâs your favourite TV character?â He looked back, like I was talking a foreign language. âHuh? Whatâs TV?â He asked. Well this wasnât going too great. He looked like he was back from Victorian times. What if he was? âOkay, next question, who won World War Two?â Again, the boys eyes widened. âWhat? There was a world war!? He cried, face full of disbelief. Okay, he is clearly from way further back than I anticipated. I tried another tactic. âSo what's the last thing you remember of where you are from?â I ask. He pulled a puzzled look, searching deep to find the answer. He scratched his head. âOh! I remember! I was walking along the road, and this huge horse and carriage came from out of nowhere. I tried to run, but I remember he went in to me. Then I was here. Where am I again?â He was so distracted with the things in the room, his voice sort of trailed off. â This is 29 Darward way. This is my home. It's 2021. Where are you from?â A huge look of shock spread across the boys face? â2021! It can't be! It was 1901 a minute ago!â He got up, all in a fluster. He went toward the window and peered out. âOkay.. What's going on? What is all this!?â he shrieked? âSsshhh! Mum will hear you if you are too loud! Come with me, and I will explain everything.â I grabbed his hand and led him to my room. Once in, I shut the door and put a chair in front of it. âSit down, and I will tell you everything you need to know.â He sat on the edge of my bed, eyes in awe if just about everything around. I decided to use my laptop for guidance. I started to google â A brief history from 1900 to presentâ. Josh started leaning in right in front of me, staring at the screen. He prodded it warily, backing away after each touch. âWhat is this sorcery?â He asked now mesmerised by the screen. I explain, and then find what I am looking for, clearing my throat. âOkay. You are clearly from the past. I am going to tell you all the key events since you.. Uh.. Died... Okay?â I wasn't waiting for an answer. I proceeded to read through the world wars, the space missions, technology and computers. Josh listened in awe if just how much had happened. He took it all in though. â I think it's time you got in to some modern clothes..â I suggested, making my way to the wardrobe. I pulled out some jeans and a Tshirt. He took them carefully and suspiciously, confused clearly. Once changed, I suggested we go out, so I could put all the newly learned information into perspective. Some of the places, josh recognised but the vast majority were incredibly new to him. We spent about an hour before stopping off for lunch. I ordered a couple of burgers. Whilst we were waiting, we talked non stop about our worlds. I was oblivious to the fact that everyone was starting at me. I was oblivious to the fact that I was the only one that could see Josh...
Nick took a step back admiring his work. He had been restoring a painting of a very handsome man, circa late 1800s England, and he was almost finished. He had stitched the canvas back together and the only thing left was a few minor touch ups. The artist was a little-known fellow by the name of Basil Hallward who went missing some years after this painting. It was a gorgeous painting, and the subject was so striking, he had an innocence and a charm about him.
Nick righted the painting, wiped his brow, and looked over his work. "Well buddy, it looks like you are all done."
No sooner had he finished saying this, a blinding light burst from the painting. As it the light faded, rubbing his eyes Nick regained focus to an immediate shock.
Nick stumbled backwards knocking a jar of paint brushes off the table. The jar shattered and the brushes scattered around the room, this didn't even register to Nick. His mouth was agape as he stared right at the most beautiful man that he had ever seen, the man from the painting.
He stared back at Nick with a calmness that did not suit the sudden appearance in the restoration room of the museum.
"Hello, good man, can you tell me, where exactly I am," the man said his eyes darting around the room speaking in a not-so-subtle English accent.
"You, you were there, now, here," Nick said making even less sense verbally compared to what was rattling around in his head.
"Calm down sir, if you can just tell me where I am, I am sure I can find my way home, I must have been a bit overzealous last night and lost my way."
Nick took a deep breath this time before he spoke, "You are in New York, but you didn't get lost, you appeared," Nick shook his head trying to get his bearings again. He pointed to the painting, "you were in the painting, I restored it, you appeared."
The man turned around and looked back into his own face. He took a step back, admiring the likeness. Nick watched as the man gazed at the painting.
"My friend Basil painted this for me," he said, then turning back towards Nick stretching his arm out towards him, "forgive me I have been quite rude, I am Dorian Gray."
Nick unsettled took Dorian's hand, "I am Nick."
Narrowing his eyes at Nick and not letting go of his hand, "Do you mind telling me how you came to have my painting?"
A cold spread over Nick, he down trying to avoid the searing beauty of Dorian, "I am commissioned to restore it, there was a nasty gash, it looked like someone had cut it with a knife."
At the mention of knife Dorian released Nick's hand, looking up he saw a flicker in Dorian's eyes, though he wasn't sure of what.
Dorian turned back to the painting, after a moment he said, "I am so sorry Basil, I will do my best to keep this one looking better than the last."
Nick looked around the room edging towards the door.
"What year is it?" Dorian stated not taking his eyes off the painting, his hand's clasped behind his back.
"It is 2015," Nick said.
"I have been gone a long time, there must be so much to experience after a hundred years, a wrinkle or two couldn't hurt, right Basil?" Dorian said to the painting.
Nick wasn't quite sure what was going on, but this guy definitely seemed to have a screw loose, not to mention he still couldn't rationalize how Dorian was here at all. All things considered he might also have a screw loose. He realized he was at the door, and as he was about to turn the handle, Dorian swivelled on his heels and started walking towards him.
"Get your coat, Nick you are going to show me all that New York has to offer," he said putting his hand on Nicks and turning the door handle.
Nick held his breath at the soft hand on him. Dorian turned to look him in the eye. Nick at that moment realized the intimate proximity he shared with Dorian.
Then with that charming smile, and hand still on top of his, Dorian said, "Well, shall we see what trouble New York has waiting for us?"
âWho arrrre you and wherrre am I?â
I had the shock of my life when I got up that morning. I tried to grasp his words and make sense of them to reply, but both my brain and tongue were tied. When I finally had a look at him I immediately realised who he was. White skin, sharp canines, a black cape hanging from his shoulders and asking about Transylvania⊠It could only be the infamous Count Dracula. Still, it didnât make any sense. Count Dracula was a literary character, how could he be in my library? Was I dreaming or had I drunk too much with my friend Brad the night before?  âWherrre am I? Who arrre you?â he repeated.  âWell... I have no idea whatâs going on.â
He looked very confused but I started thinking of Bradâs words the night before, when he visited me for some drinks. I always thought he was a nice guy, but a tad bit of a loony. He worked at the local bookshop too. Â âHow do I get back to Trrransylvania?â the vampire called me back to reality. Â I had no answer. I just kept staring at the count like an idiot.
âPlease, I need to go back to Trrransylvania. Rrrrememberr my storrry? I shall die if I spend too much time away frrrom my land.â he begged, showing me his pale, skinny hands. Â It was true, I remembered that part from the book I had read a few years ago. This guy would vanish into dust if he didnât go back soon. But how to send him back?
âWhat is the last thing you remember before ending up here?â I tried to find out.
âI was just rrreading my books in my librrarrry. I fell asleep and then I woke up in yourrr librrarrry.â
Hmmmm⊠maybe Brad wasnât that drunk after all. He had told me about a portal but I didnât pay much attention, though.
âI have a friend who works in a bookshop.â I told him, scratching my ear as if it could clear my thoughts. âI think he may be able to help us. Letâs go see him, the shop only closes at 6pm. However, you canât walk around like that. You can have some of my clothes.â Â âWhat is wrrrong with my clothes?â Â It was a mission to convince him that this was the 21st century and if he walked around in his vampire outfit he would terrify all other walkers-by. Even worse, we could both be considered lunatics and end up having to run away from the cops. Â âI am starrrting to feel hungrrry.â he complained as we walked onto the underground and found two seats. âThese people smell verrry nice.â Â The closest people turned their heads around to us. Â âWhen we finish this trrrip we must go hunt.â Â âNo, no, no.â I said. âYou cannot just go hunt people like that.â Â âBut I am hungrrry and these people smell delicious.â
By now people were staring at us inquisitively, eyebrows frowned.
âListen, count. If you want to get back to Transylvania, you need to trust me. Weâll get something for you to eat when weâre out of here.â Â I realised I didnât even know what to feed him with. To my knowledge, no vampire would be happy with a burger or pizza. We finally arrived at our destination. The count was getting visibly upset, his eyes now glowing red. I was terribly worried. He had to go soonest. Â âI am hungrrry and I need my land.â was one of the many comments he would make out loud, embarrassing me to the core. Â âPlease, count, weâre almost there. I beg you not to attack anyone. Otherwise you may never be able to go back to your beloved Transylvania.â
We finally arrived. Thank goodness the library was now empty, but unfortunately Brad wasnât there either. I saw his mother though, closing the till. I suddenly remembered that the bookshop was a family one. When she looked at the count, she sighed in relief: Â âOh goodness, I am so happy you found the count, George. I have been wondering about his whereabouts the whole day.â Â âWhat the hell is going on? I didnât want to believe him but now...â I had never felt so puzzled in my life. Â âBrad must stop playing with this portal. He loves visiting his books, but that always means a character must come to our times. Five years ago we almost lost Dorian Gray. Iâm worried also that one of these days the portal accident locks and heâs unable to come back. Â âSo is Brad in Transylvania at the moment?!â I asked raising my eyebrows so much they almost touched the ceiling. âYou have to help us. The count must return to Transylvania. Iâm worried he may start biting necks soon.â
âPlease, madam. I am verrry hungrrry.â the countâs eyes were shining like a predatorâs. He was also going paler and paler, he needed his land.
âCome with me.â Bradâs mom said.
We followed her to the basement where she started looking in the shelves.
âWhere is Stoker? I need to find the first version ever published of Dracula.â
âYou have it here??â I was astonished.
âWe have them all. We belong to the family of the librarian who created the literary portal. I must be his great great great granddaughter. Actually I donât even know how great I am, pun intended.â she added giggling, but I didnât find it slightly funny. âAhh, here it is.â
She picked an old book, blew the dust off and walked towards a red carpet hanging from the ceiling. Behind it was an old wooden door, one of those you find in old mansions and castles. The portal.
Bradâs mother opened it and immediately an intense bright yellow light almost blinded us. The count shouted in agony, covering his eyes with his cape. When I opened mine again I thought I had gone mad. The book was wide open, floating in the air and the lady was muttering some words, her eyes closed.
âFor the one who must return, we send the one who belongs there.â I heard her say. It was like a magical formula she kept repeating.
I saw a circle of light spin and suddenly the count was dragged into it, shouting in pain. A second later, Brad literally landed on the floor, screaming too. The light went off and the door closed with a deafening sound. However, a few more seconds later, after the carpet covered it again, the basement plunged back to calm, as if nothing had happened.
Brad was still on the floor twinkling his eyes.
âThe portal mustnât be abused.â his mother scolded, eyebrows frowned, hands on her waist.
âSorry mom, I just love visiting my books.â he apologised as he got up and rubbed his eyes.
âWhy did the count appear in my house?â I asked.
âBecause you were the last person I visited before going into the portal. Thatâs how it works somehow. I think it needs some adjustments...â
âYou just leave the portal, Brad.â his mother yelled at him. âImagine this breaks and you canât return.â
I was speechless and still very confused.
âBrad, letâs go have pizza. Thereâs a lot I want to know.â
He looked at me relieved, but I wanted him to tell me every single detail of this crazy story.
I heard a noise and went to the spare room, opening the door. To my shock there was a random guy laying there on the bed.
He had a turban on, and the most magnificent set of silk house robes with these shiny, ornate golden stitches.
I said âhelloâ and he stirred into a confused wakefulness and said âwhere am I?â to which I replied âyou are in my house in Seville sir. Now would you mind telling me who you are and what you are doing here?â
âSir! I am Sultan Mangogul and I will not be questioned in such a manner, now please tell me where I am!â
This back and forth continued until me and this so called Sultan guy established who he was. After a Google search it turns out that he is from some old novel and had woken up in my spare room.
So I resolved to help him cope for as long as he stayed around and decided to take him for a tapas after giving him some normal clothes to wear.
I pleaded with him to take his beautiful gold, amber stoned ring off lest he be tempted to use it. He wouldnât be convinced so eventually we decided to head out. He looked around at everything in wondrous amazement like a small child. Often commenting on how impressive the horseless carriages were and that the women here had no shame. That he would not even need his ring in this place.
Hopefully not, I prayed silently to myself. This man, this character really was a man of his time and I fear heâd cause chaos in short order.
We sat down for tapas outside in the sun, at a beautiful cafe by the river. The Sultan was happily satisfied with all of the new things around him and he was very happy with the food, though he did remark that these modern vegetables lacked natural flavour and the fruits seemed incredibly sweet. An accurate observation of our modern strains of familiar foods.
As we waited for our coffees a couple sat down next to us and I thought nothing of it. After all our afternoon had been fine and we were about getting ready to leave.
But we noticed some discomfort between them and I saw the Sultan perk up. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
She had come to break up with him in a public place, to keep his reaction tempered, but he was quickly losing composure already. âI donât understand, is there someone else?â to which she replied âof course notâ, she just wanted to figure things out and perhaps to move somewhere else for a while.
The Sultan gave a mischievous smile and said, let us see what her toy says, and he pointed the ring beneath the table to her âdiscreet partsâ. I said âNoâ as loudly as possible under my breath but it was too late.
Her lady parts started to spill her secrets without the the diplomatic tact she had used to try and spare his feelings.
âEver since you lost your job Miguel, you have been laying around the house losing hope by the day, for months! I look at you and feel nothing and Iâm repulsed by your touch. So is there someone else? Not at first, but recently yes and thereâs no shame in itâ.
He sat there in open mouthed disbelief with tears streaming. âLila please!â to which she replied with a roll of her eyes after her secrets were already dropped, âMiguelâ. Her lady parts spoke up again without the compassion that was coming from her mouth, even if her body language was disagreeable.
âI didnât sign up to be your mother so needed a man again. What can I say. I have to leave you because you have already left me and you have left yourself. Iâm sorry. Youâll find someone else once things are betterâ. She patted his arm and he pulled away with pain and disgust flashing across his face.
I dragged the Sultan away and left the awful scene, getting him back to the apartment and admonishing him for doing what he had done. I pleaded with him again to take the genieâs ring off before weâd go out ever again.
ââââââââââââââ
Sultan Mangogul of Congo is a character from The Indiscreet Jewels (1748) by Denis Diderot
I didnât think much of it when I first heard the âthumpâ in my upstairs bedroom. In fact, my first thought was that that old lamp must have finally fallen. I ignored it and went back to my laptop, until a startled female voice caught my ears.
âSister? Wherever have you gone, sister?â
I hesitated, wondering if perhaps my ears had deceived me. I had read a childrenâs book the night before to my niece, and there was still a lot of silliness spinning around my head. That must be it.
âWhere am I? Hello? Dinah?â
I was scared now. I abandoned my laptop and ran up the steps.
I pulled open my bedroom door and my mouth fell open. Standing in the center of my bedroom was a very frantic-looking little girl with sunny blonde hair, tiny black shoes, and a frilly blue dress.
âWho are you?â she gasped. âI could ask you the same thing,â I mumbled.
Although I was fairly sure I already knew who she was.
âHow did you get here?â I asked her, not sure what else to say.
Alice shrugged. âI donât know how I get many places these days.â
I cracked a smile. I guess if I was going crazy, I might as well enjoy it. âSo... what do we do now?â
She sat down daintily on the bed. âWell, I suppose we could have some refreshments.â
âWhat, did you expect me to have a little cake with the words âeat meâ written on the top in raisins?â I asked jokingly.
She gave me a confused look.
âSorry,â I muttered. âIâll go get us some lemonade.â
When I returned with my tray of refreshments, she was examining something in the far corner of my room.
âWhatâs this?â she inquired, poking her head inside what I realized was my childhood dollhouse. She stuck her arm through one of the windows. I stifled a laugh.
She frowned, getting up and dusting off her dress. âMy, you just keep getting curioser and curioser, donât you?â she asked as I handed her a glass of lemonade.
I nodded as we clinked glasses. âIsnât life all about curious things?â
Alice considered that. âI suppose.â She shrugged and sipped the lemonade.
âWhat do you think?â I asked when she returned the glass to the tray. âNot good?â
She shook her head. âSorry, itâs a bit sweet. I prefer tea. And parties to go along with them.â
She had a point.
âWell, I guess I should get back to work,â I said, reaching for the doorknob and thinking of my laptop downstairs. âI have lots of things to do, you know, when Iâm not hallucinating and going absolutely insane.â
Alice gave me a small smile. âAlright, well, donât stress too much. We could always have a nice tea party or read if youâd like a break. And donât worryâ weâre all mad here.â
I was fixing coffee when I heard it. There was a thud and then the unmistakable sound of footsteps above me. I stopped grinding the coffee beans, thinking maybe my ears were playing tricks on me but then I heard a voice tentatively say, âHello? Anybody there? Where am I?â
In a rush it all came back to me. I had driven home after a pretty intense night of partying at Benâs and found this woman on my stoop. It was very late, and although I didnât recognize her, I was used to the odd person showing up on my doorstep and proclaiming themselves to be a cousin. In a family as extended as mine, I had dozens of cousins and it seemed all of them needed a room for the night on a visit to New York. This girl, for she could not have been much older than 18, obviously needed a bed and I was too sleepy and frankly too inebriated to ask which aunt or uncle she belonged to.
She seemed to appear out of nowhere, and tentatively asked, âWhere is the chamber pot?â I stared at her a moment. âYou mean the bathroom?â
She looked at me blankly, then blushed. âI really need to....you know....make water?â
âOh! Pee! â. I chuckled and said, âFollow meâ.
We walked back up the stairs and I pointed to the bathroom. âThere you go.â
She still looked at me blankly and thatâs when I looked at her more closely. She was dressed REALLY oddly, like she had been to some kind of costume party, and her whole speech and bearing were oddly old fashioned. She was starting to look extremely agitated, so I pointed to the toilet. âYou can go in thereâ, I said, pointing to the toilet. She didnât move, so I walked over and raised the lid. âSit on there and let it goâ.
Her relief was palpable when she finally understood, and she rushed over, pulling up her long skirts as she rushed over and sat down.
âCome back to the kitchen when you are ready,â I said, and she nodded at me.
I finished making the coffee, poured two large mugs,and set out a couple of plates along with fruit, cheese and some day old croissants. I heard her coming down the hallway, and when she appeared in the doorway, I motioned her to have a seat.
âNow,â I said. âWhat is your name and whatâs with the costume and the game going on here? Which of my nutsy aunts sent you here as a joke?â
I got another blank stare. âMy name is Lily Bart. And do I know you?â
My mind was whirling. Lily Bart? Edith Wharton? âThe Hose of Mirthâ? What 5he heck was going on??
While i was reading the book of harry potter i found that the room vibrates starlets me and the book os full of the bright.I averted my eyes and trying to recognise what is happening
I looked around is that you Yes itâs me Harry potter i know you will my friend
His chances had improving aftermath for life He is little guy with a stick with old fashioned clothes and broken glass sultaned with dust
He looked to all the corners of my room he tried to ise his stick saying flobendooo open the door.I cracked up no not here.he continued using his magic i trying to storm out the room
I opened The door and window.This will offset the foolish actions of him. Are you hungry i would cooked some food yes please Iâm starving I heard a strange sounds while i was cooking I thought he was using his magic flobendooo make drinks flobendoooo some drinks
I came with the food the hots blows out of it.he said what is this I donât eat this food must be undercooked flashes of snacks Unfortunately my friend they are not available.
I must do some chores could you help me to go to my school.I picked up some new clothes for him to change those then we went out he was totally novice in driving so I picked up a taxi he amazed of how the taxi looks like
The driver couldnât understand the address he nuanced so we suggested to return back He said to me please help me my friend to return to my school i said okay i opend the book and return the pages the magic has happened and he cordially said i would be with you while you are reading
Iâve always just loved reading.
Iâve been told stories of me hunting for books, stealing books from strangers, and just looking at the âscribblesâ and start babbling things I think they said, when I was two years old.
Itâs been a long time and I still cherish my love for books.
One day, I finished Little Women for the eighth time. I was reading in my favorite chair outside. It was night, moonlight illuminating the words.
I sighed as I finished. And then I whispered, âOh, how I wish Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy were here,â
I saw a shooting star pass, and I shook my head, not believing.
ââ
Iâm an early riser. Even when itâs a Saturday morning.
I check for my cat, Meow-Meow but I couldnât find her in her usual place by the window.
Sometimes MM roams around the house late night and sheâs always been a late sleeper. But after I eat breakfast, I decide to find her.
I look around my apartment when I start hearing noises from my spare room.
That was odd. Meow-Meow hates the spare room because itâs usually cold, it has very little furniture, and itâs always devoid of people.
âMM?â I ask. As I open the door, I gasp.
There in front of me was The Little Women.
ââ
Meg was beautiful, Jo was headstrong and a tomboy, Beth was sweet and kind, and Amy was snotty and classy.
There were just like they were in the book with small details illuminated from Bethâs caring nature to Amyâs blond ringlets.
âHow are you here?â I exclaim.
âHow do we go back?â Meg asks, looking confused and her eyes wandering around.
Meow-Meow purred and jumped into my hands (which she doesnât do often). She was probably scared of strange people who she doesnât remember coming in and glad to see a familiar face.
âI like your cat,â Beth says.
MM purrs.
âI know!â I said, realization hitting me. âI wished on a shooting star for you to be here. I can wish on a shooting star for you to go back!â
âHow does that work?â Amy asks.
âYouâll see,â is my only answer.
ââ
I had to keep rubbing my eyes. And I started to regret waking up so early.
Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy have all went to sleep but Iâm determined to get them out of here.
Explaining 21st Century Life and the pandemic was hard. Not to mention that Meow-Meow is scared of all of them except Beth.
When it was so late that I could barely see at all, a shooting star lit the sky.
âI wish that Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy go back to where they came from,â I finished up with a yawn and went inside.
ââ
As soon as I wake up that Sunday Morning (not early), I check the spare room.
On it, I find Meow-Meow sleeping on the bed but besides that, no oneâs there.
I smile. Theyâre gone.
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