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One Stickman, One Mission A lone stickman stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the vast expanse of land below. He had been sent on a mission, but he didn't know what it was or why he had been chosen. All he knew was that he had to succeed. He took a deep breath and stepped off the cliff. The wind rushed past him as he fell, and he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He closed his eyes and thought about his mission. He had to succeed. He hit the ground with a thud and rolled to a stop. He lay there for a moment, dazed. Then he stood up and brushed himself off. He had done it. He had succeeded. He looked around and saw that he was in a forest. The trees were tall and the leaves were green. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. It was a beautiful day. The stickman smiled. He had accomplished his mission, and he was free. He could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted. He was the master of his own destiny. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and started walking. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that he would be okay. He had the whole world ahead of him.
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