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East Stream Group, LLC Non Disclosure Agreement

In connection with your consideration of a possible transaction or business relationship (the “Potential Transaction”) with East Stream Group, LLC dba Liner HouseEast Stream Studio (the ”Company”), you may be provided creative materials, operational, technical and other information relating to the past, present and future businesses and affairs of the Company (collectively, the ”Confidential Information”). As a condition to you being furnished any Confidential Information, you agree to the terms set forth in this letter.

All Confidential Information is the exclusive proprietary property of the Company. The Confidential Information has competitive value and is of a confidential nature such that there would be damage to the Company if any Confidential Information is disclosed to any person not in accordance with the terms of this letter agreement. As a result, you will not disclose the Confidential Information to any third party, except as needed to your agents, consultants, advisors or other representatives, including legal counsel, accountants and financial advisors (your “Representatives”) and will only use the Confidential Information for the purpose of evaluating the Potential Transaction.  Your Representatives will be bound by the terms of this letter agreement as you are, and you will be liable for any breach of the letter by your Representatives.  You will enforce this letter agreement as to your Representatives and take such action, legal or otherwise, to the extent necessary to cause them to comply with this letter agreement and thereby prevent any disclosure of the Confidential Information by any of your Representatives.  You will not disclose to any third party, other than your Representatives, that the Confidential Information has been disclosed to you or your Representatives, or that you or your Representatives have inspected any portion of the Confidential Information or that any discussions or negotiations are taking place concerning the Potential Transaction.  Further, neither you nor your Representatives will initiate or cause to be initiated any communication with any employee of the Company concerning the Confidential Information or the Potential Transaction, without the prior written consent of the Company.

The Company would be irreparably harmed by a breach of the letter by you and it may be difficult to estimate damages resulting from such a breach, so the Company will be entitled to injunctive or such other equitable relief as may be appropriate to prevent a breach or threatened or continuing breach of this letter in addition to all other remedies available at law or in equity to the Company. You will indemnify and hold the Company harmless from any damages, costs, liabilities, or losses arising out of your breach of this letter.

Neither the Company nor you will be under any legal obligation (except for the matters specifically agreed to in this letter) with respect to the Potential Transaction by virtue of this letter or any other actions unless a definitive written agreement is signed by you and the Company.

At the Company’s request, you (a) shall deliver to the Company all tangible materials received from the Company or generated by you which contain Confidential Information; and (b) shall delete any electronic copies of such Confidential Information in your possession.

This letter is the entire agreement between you and the Company about the Confidential Information and the Potential Transaction and supersedes any previous oral or written communications or agreements. This letter will be governed by North Carolina law. No amendment or modification of this letter or waiver of its terms and conditions will be binding unless approved in writing by both you and the Company.

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 2

2

The Clock Tower

Now, what’s the best way to describe Annabelle Schmell? Well, people might say she was a bright-eyed young lady. That she was friendly and had a way of making others feel comfortable. That she usually wore cute dresses and Mary Jane shoes and loved photography. And all of that would be true. But what most people didn’t know was Annabelle Schmell saw Eddie differently from everyone else.

      Eddie had known Annabelle his entire life. When she was five, Annabelle made a habit of intentionally breaking her doll as an excuse to visit Eddie at Mr. Billings’ repair shop. She would do this to get eight-year-old Eddie to fix it for her. Why, you might ask, did she do this? Clearly, she was smitten. But Eddie always saw Annabelle as the naggy little girl his parents made him be nice to. During Eddie’s high-school years Annabelle became a bit more tolerable and even fun to be around at times. But once he graduated, he didn’t see much of her. He still thought of her as an annoying little sister.

      Eddie closed his notepad and slid it and the pencil back in his shirt pocket. Annabelle finished crossing the street and plopped down beside him on the bench. She wore a canvas backpack over her navy-blue sweater and toted a drink from the Mighty Mug. Eddie eyed the beverage enviously. The smell was unmistakable.

      A Mocha Latte.

      Annabelle smiled. “You didn’t answer me. How are you doing?”

      “Oh, sorry. I’m doing good. What are you up to?”

      “Nothing much. Just got a Mocha Latte and thought I’d work a cryptogram before heading up to The Wicked Wood.” She glanced at Eddie with mischievous eyes. Eddie faked an uninterested laugh as he tried not to take the bait.

      “Ha, ha, right, the ‘Wicked Wood.’ That’s just some old wives’ tale made up to scare schoolchildren.”

      Eddie sensed Annabelle knew he couldn’t help but wonder why she was going to The Wicked Wood. So he wasn’t surprised when she baited him further.

      “Oh, it’s much more than a story,” she said. “Lenny Baskin was snooping around up there a few days ago trying to find the old Moonshiner’s Ghost. And guess what happened?”

      Eddie tried to look disinterested. Annabelle lowered her voice to almost a whisper and leaned toward him.

      “I’ll tell you what happened. Lenny saw the ghost…right before it put a spell on him.”

      “Put a spell on him?” Eddie repeated disdainfully, as he lost interest for real.

      “Yeah. He said his head got all foggy and he felt like sleeping.” Annabelle started getting animated. “Next thing he knew, branches and leaves were grabbing him. He said if he hadn’t fought the spell the forest would have eaten him up.” She paused for effect. “Never to be found.”

      Eddie rolled his eyes. “Annabelle, high schoolers have been telling that story for years to scare the lower grades. The spell-casting part is new, but I imagine each year the legend keeps getting more ridiculous. But it isn’t real.”

      “You’re one to talk. Why is this story any different than the ones you believe?”

      “Because my stories – I mean conspiracies – have tons of data. And I seriously doubt Lenny Baskin actually went to The Wicked Wood.”

      “Well it doesn’t matter, I’m going up there anyway. My senior project is called ‘The Legend of The Wicked Wood,’ and whether the legend is true or not, I’m going to have a killer paper.”

      “It’s a waste of time. If you want to do a paper on something really interesting you should look into how the government controls people’s minds through milk and tap water. It’s why I only drink distilled water, and never drink milk.”

      Annabelle appeared somewhat deflated by Eddie’s remark. She stood up.

      “Fine. I’ll leave the conspiracies with ‘tons of data’ to you.” She turned to cross the street.

      Eddie had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Annabelle had just shared something with him she was excited about, and he shot it down. Dog moaned a disapproving moan. The kind of moan that says, “You don’t have many friends as it is, so don’t lose this one.”

      Eddie watched Annabelle approach her car. The further away she got, the greater the sinking feeling became. He’d never felt that before. Then something else rose up inside him and he called after her.

      “Annabelle.”

      She quickly turned to look at him, her eyes filled with anticipation.

      Eddie gulped.

      “Um…Your paper…It’s gonna be killer.”

      “Thanks, Eddie!” Annabelle called back across the street as a smile crept onto her face.

      “Oh, and uh…” He paused.

      “Yes?”

      “Um…be careful.”

      Her smile got even bigger. “I will.” She climbed into her car and drove off. As Eddie watched Annabelle drive away, presumably to investigate The Wicked Wood, Dog let out a bark. The kind of bark that says, “Now that’s more like it.”

(continues)

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