It’s supposed to be in the past where it belongs.

You never take it out, never mess with it. It’s like an old ghost waiting out there to haunt you. It’s the forbidden territory. The place you can’t step in. The cookies that your mother asked you not to have.

It’s bad for you and you know it.

But still we dive in. You cross the border, you eat that cookie and you are haunted, forever.

Whoever said it’s not worth it, lied.

Because once you’ve done that you are not the only one haunted, everyone you have ever touched is in it too. And it’s all because of you.

But who cares?

For what it’s worth, the cookie was delicious; the forbidden land, beautiful; and the ghost, that was just a nightmare.

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