Take a small bite.
Chew carefully while watching others suspiciously.
Swallow.
Give someone a glare.

That was how every meal was the first couple weeks in the Glade. Distrust, fear, and anger ran rampet.
The only friendly presence came from the dog, Bark.

A group of 25 boys, ages 12 to 16, had arrived in the box two weeks ago. You can just imagine the chaos of it all.

"Where am I?"
"Who are you?"
"Why am I here?"

A couple fights even broke out that very first afternoon over food. Kids huddled in corners but none stepped near the immense and intimidating vine covered walls.

By the next morning the ground was still damp with tears that had been shed all night. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit on that but there were many a sleepless night. Where the sound of snoring should have been; sniffles and sobs were loud and clear.

It was pitiful and at times I felt a pang of sadness for those boys. Watching them day after day, surrounded in misery. It was time to add a spin on things.

Who am I you may be asking? Thomas is my name and I work for WICKED. Instead of hearing this story from my perspective, I'm sure you want to hear it from the Gladers themselves.

Goodbye and remember, WICKED is Good.

A/N
So.... what did you guys think? Please comment.