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7.

Eoghon O'Byrne sat down on the bench rather heavily. All day he had constantly been meeting with someone, hurrying somewhere, and now his flight was delayed. His wife would be expecting him at ten o'clock that night, and now he wouldn't arrive till two in the morning, at least.

The man on the other end of the bench grunted and scooted slightly away from him. Rattling his newspaper with meaty fingers, he pointedly kept his face hidden in the folds of the editorial page.

Eoghon fought back an aggravated sigh. Although most of his countrymen were friendly, his eye patch was the only thing many of them seemed to see about him. Either they had him pegged as a pirate or a member of some militant group--most likely the latter, this being Ireland, after all. Once they spoke to him, their concerns had a tendency to vanish; but many were determined to keep him, at the very least, farther than they could throw him.

He settled back onto the hard wooden bench and dug a notepad and pencil from his carry-on bag. His next song wouldn't write itself, and he might as well work while he had the time.

The man beside him shook the newspaper again, as if to make certain that Eoghon knew he wasn't wanted. Eoghon tapped his index finger impatiently and wondered for the hundredth time whether he shouldn't just purchase a glass eye. But Ariel liked the patch, he knew; and what his wife liked would stay.

At least people at home in County Carlow didn't stare and wonder whether he was a terrorist of some variety.

Eoghon sneaked a glance at the headlines of the paper. Something about economy--an election in Germany--smaller articles. He could only glimpse the back of the first section from his position.

The man emitted a dutiful sigh and rattled the paper closed. It was then that Eoghon saw the main headline: "American President Shot." No. The paper had to be wrong. But below the headline, Eoghon saw the photo and knew. There was no mistake in the article: the president was dead.

Eoghon closed his eyes and fought back memories of times he had spent in that man's very house. How am I supposed to tell Ariel about her father?
 
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10...it sounds like a published book (better than some)!

This is not from a Will story. :D Sorry for the length.

The next morning, the twenty-six schoolchildren, a few of the younger children, and I entered a large wooden building that the circus men had made over the past two days. In the front of the room was a large stage that was curtained with red silk. Mr. Sgori stepped out in front of the curtains.

“Ladieeeees and gen-tle-men!” he shouted. “Thank you for coming to Sgori’s Circus! Our fist act of today is Cure-all Elixir, a wonderful tonic, curing all aches and illnesses!”

The curtains opened, and two men appeared on the stage, carrying a stretcher. On it was a man who looked nearly dead.
“Folks, this is a man who is dying of pneumonia and headaches!” Mr. Sgori shouted. “Now, watch!” He pulled a bottle of elixir from under his suitcoat and handed it to the ‘dying’ man, who took a large gulp. He sprang up and started to run around the stage. The curtains closed. (I thought that the ‘elixir’ was probably mostly liquor, judging by eagerness with which the ‘sick man’ drained the bottle. )

“See, folks!” Mr. Sgori said. “This wonderful medicine cures everything! Buy your bottles at the end of the show! Our next act is the man-eating fish!”

The curtains parted to reveal a man sitting at a table, eating fish.

“See! A man eating fish!” Mr. Sgori exclaimed.

There was a howl of anger from the boys in the audience.

“That’s not a man-eating fish!” Hanson screamed.

“Yes, it is!” Mr. Sgori shouted. “He is eating fish!”

“Then how come the poster has a picture of a fish eating a man?” Hanson screeched as the curtains were cranked shut.

“The illustrator must have been confused!” Mr. Sgori said. “Besides, this is a fish-eating man! On to the next act—the amazing, the baffling, the wonderful, the tremendous, the fabulous, the one, the only—Invisible Wonder!”

The curtains opened. The stage was empty.

“I don’t see anything,” said Nicky.

“That’s because it is the INVISIBLE Wonder!” shouted Mr. Sgori. “Watch it leave the stage! Now it is gone, and our next act is about to come! Ladies and gentlemen, applaud for Mr. Magicio, the world’s finest magician!”

A man with a black suit, matching silk hat, and carefully curled black moustache entered. He placed a box on a table.

“Those, ladies and gentlemen, are his magic tricks!” Mr. Sgori yelled. “Now, watch him!”

Mr. Magicio fastened on a black silk cape with red lining and grinned at us. “Here is my first piece of skill...” He removed his hat and pulled out a small ball.

“Wasn’t that fabulous! Wasn’t that well-done!” shouted Mr. Sgori. “Now he will give his best trick! He will make himself disappear!”

Mr. Magicio grinned again. “Now you see me...” He walked offstage, and his voice drifted out of the wing. “...now, you don’t!”

Seeing the varied annoyed, angry, disgusted, and disappointed expressions on the children’s faces, Mr. Sgori quickly announced the next act. “Our next act will be the Bearded Woman!” A woman walked onstage and sat in a chair for us to observe her face.

“She don’t even have a moustache!” yelled Hanson.

“She is the Bearded Woman!” insisted Mr. Sgori. “She shaved yesterday! But she is still the Bearded Woman, but without the beard! Now for the next exhibit, the Talking Head!”

The Bearded Woman left, and her seat was taken by a man who began reciting the multiplication table.

“Feast your eyes on the Talking Head!” Mr. Sgori shouted loudly, pointing with his cane.

“But he’s got a body!” said one of the girls.

“Ah, but the head is talking! He is a Talking Head! Thank you, Talking Head! You may leave now!” The Talking Head, who had forgotten his numbers somewhere around two times nine, looked relieved and scuttled offstage.

“Aren’t you amazed?!” Mr. Sgori shouted. “It was amazing! Now comes our next act, the puppeteer!”

A man with a bush of yellow hair and a tiny moustache ran onto the stage. He spread his arms, bowing proudly.

“Here you have him! The marvelous puppeteer!” The puppeteer raised his hands, waving them in the air, as if asking for more cheers.

Rebecca looked around. “Where are the puppets?”

“The act is called ‘The Puppeteer’, not ‘The Puppeteer’s Puppets’! But isn’t he tremendous?! His skill with any puppets is astounding!” The Puppeteer swaggered off the stage.

“Here come our dancers and our great singer!” Mr. Sgori pointed at three men walking onto the stage. One carried what might have been a fiddle five years ago. The other two were dressed in colorful outfits and huge plumed hats.

The dancers shuffled across the stage—every once in a while stopping to pick up their hats, which kept falling off—while the great singer sawed away at the fiddle, breaking half the strings. Finally, he gave up on the fiddle and began to sing. It was a song made up of one single note that resembled a croak, sung over and over again for five minutes. When, to our relief, it finally ended and the three left, a nervous man with a drooping moustache sauntered forth.

“The Great Joker!” shouted Mr. Sgori, waving his cane.

The Great Joker put on what was intended to be a smile. “What tooth has...no, wait...this one is really good...what combs teeth...I mean, what has teeth and never eats?”

“Comb,” stated all the children simultaneously, sounding disappointed.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” pronounced the Great Joker, sounding more like he was reading from a very dull book than laughing. “My next joke is, why don’t children eat pie?”

The children gave him blank looks.

The Joker twisted his mouth into a forced smile. “Who said they didn’t? Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“You said it yourself,” grumbled Avery.

“That wasn’t funny,” Candy added.

The Joker stomped off. “My act is done.”

Mr. Sgori smiled. “Wasn’t that hilarious? Years from now you will think back to the Great Joker and laugh with merriment! But now the show must go on! And now, for the Grand Fireworks Display!”

“Inside?” I asked.

“Yes!” Mr. Sgori insisted. He lit a match. I grabbed the hands of two little girls and got ready to run for the door. However, all Mr. Sgori did was hold the match up.

“See? The fire works! And that is the end of my wonderful circus!”

The children all rose from their seats and marched towards the stage. It looked like Mr. Sgori and his circus would be chased out of another town.
 
7.

It were Easter, and Bolt, Mittens and Rhino they was on their vacation in New Jersey.

The heroes they knew Krypto the Super Dog, and they met him while they once worked in the Hollywood studio.

Krypto he lived in a flat near Asbury Splash Park, and he lived together with his best friend the cats Streaky.

As Krypto and his friends took along Asbury Park Boardwalk, was he saying “I spend my summer vacations here, as I was younger so I met with Streaky here on this Boardwalk!”

Streaky he said “I used to live by myself on Cookman Avenue, and I spend my life by living in the closed stores that was gone for good.”

Then was the heroes going to the closed casino by the beach, and Krypto he said “I remember the good old days, when this casino was alive long before it ended up like this!”

After the heroes had explored the closed casino, was they taking a walk along Ocean Avenue at last that sunny evening.

Later on in that evening, was the heroes going home to the apartment, where Krypto and Streaky they lived.
 
7 ^^

Tasha stumbled over rocks as she ran on and on, calling Yuuki’s name. She stopped to take a breath and wiped her brow. Where is he? He said he would be right back…She blinked as the sky started getting darker. Tasha shivered, something wasn’t right…
Folding her hands and closing her eyes she zoned out, searching for the presence of Yuuki. The wind blew her brown hair against her cheeks and she focused as hard as she could. Her eyes flew open. “Yuuki….!” Running over sharp rocks and slipping on the wet stone she ran up the steps of the crumbled ruins where the Dark Lord once reigned before the King destroyed it. The young girl placed her hands over her mouth and shook with tears as she gazed upon the blood-soaked floor
 
8, exciting.:D

When the people of Pine Grove wanted to express how poorly someone was dressed, or how little money they had, they used expressions like ‘Almost as ragged as those Baker youngsters’ or ‘Almost as poor as the Bakers’ or ‘You’d better keep your property tidy or it’ll look like Baker’s barn’. Any visitor could conclude from these phrases that the Bakers were poverty-stricken. Most of them also made the conclusion that there was a Mr. Baker who drank up all the money. This wasn’t true. There wasn’t a Mr. Baker—or a Mrs. Baker, for that matter—to take care of the Baker children. There was only Alice, who was eighteen.

When the women of the town came across Alice during one of her infrequent shopping trips, they were sure to say, “Oh, Miss Baker? How are the children? Poor things!” And the shop lady was sure to remark, “There’s a lovely new material for sale....I suppose you noticed it? It’s a pity you can’t afford it...it would look lovely on one of the little girls.”
 
10 ^^

For some reason I just felt like writing this...Don't ask why because I have no idea @.@ It just came to me like a truck running me over...lol

"Loneliness...is a painful thing...what's the cure? Is it friends? Do friends solve anything? Or do they just make a wound deeper...Like a mother bird....Caring...Watching over you...until she leaves you all alone...Alone in the world...Loneliness...is a deadly thing...Hurtful...Makes your mind go blank and wonder...Is this life?"
 
2. too many ...s distracted me from everything.



The goddess of love and I often danced together. Many mortals found that strange since I advocated virginity and she advocated everything opposite, but she and I knew only kindred love for one another. We were not our father's favorites, that could have been the initial reason why we bonded, but we danced as if we embraced our father's indifference.

Aphrodite held my waist as we spun on the moss covered floor of my room. On Mt.Olympus my room was the farthest from Zeus, but that only meant I had the best view. I could see existence; I could see eternity from each large open window. Three out of the four Winds could whisk us as we moved to the sounds of Pan's flute, miles away in the forests of Crete.

The notes played passion, beauty, affection, but most of all played to entice. And we were enticed. As our feet moved and we threw the wispy scarves about, our spirits melded together like the way Hephaestus melded silver with gold. Her scent carried the taste of newly harvested sugar which mingled with the citrus and jasmine mists that circulated through out my room. Apollo, my twin, was giving the sun over to Aurora and so the pinks and reds of the darkening sky shaded us. Aphrodite's blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin saoked in every lasting ray of light. She was, truly, the most beautiful sight out of everything. All these things made us forget any troubles we may have had that day. We succumbed to bliss, and very little could break it.
 
7.5, its very detailed but not the sort of thing I usually read... very romantic.



Dora’s sensitive ears twitched lazily as she dozed. Suddenly though she heard a soft noise outside their camp which was an abandoned den of some animal.
Cautiously Dora grabbed her bow and quiver and crawled out of the den. Her brown fur blended well with the surrounding dead grass that bordered Snow Country. She slunk through the scanty brush on her belly using her paws to pull her forward and push her onward. She went in a circle around the place she had heard the noise until she found the source of it.

A young half-awake she-cat not much older than Dora herself sat perched on a dead tree with a bow and quiver of arrows on her back. Her bowstring was half pulled back and the arrow rested against the ground by the dead tree. The she-cat had light brown creamy fur with black spots scurrying amongst her coat. She wore a white cloak, typical of the residents of Snow Country and her head was dropped against her chest. The young cat was dozing; having set an ambush for those in the den she had decided that she would surely hear whoever came out first and would shoot them as they came out. What the she cat did not expect was for someone to do the same to her.
 
5--Has some awkward wording. On the other hand, does have an element of suspense.


“Go West!” Greeley said. And we have gone west. We have gone to the farthest places of the earth. We have gone even to the moon. And why should we not go to the red planet also? So here I sat, in the Santa Maria of the 21st century, waiting to set foot on the New World. My eyes eagerly peered from my window, wandering in delighted admiration over the vast frontiers of the unexplored continent, and I thought that I had never before beheld such unparalleled grandeur. I thought to myself, “This then is the supreme entity—land—the ground beneath a man’s feet. What is there greater in the universe? What is more truly the basis of civilization than the ground on which it is built? And who greater than the men who discover it?” In my mind, I reviewed the names of all the explorers of whom I had ever heard. Erickson, De Gama, Columbus, Magellan, Livingston, and Armstrong passed in a great parade before me till the last in the line held out his hand to me and I became one of them.
With this thought it occurred to me that I was looking in the wrong direction. Surely, it was not land that was greatest, but the men who conquered it. I turned my eyes from the window, to the interior of the spaceship. The majesty which I had at first seen outside, now seemed to be outshone by the glory of ourselves. The men who surrounded me seemed to radiate it, but I thought myself the brightest. The thought flashed through me that at last we had conquered the Olympus of the gods and had ourselves become gods.
The order came to land, and instantly there was a great rush for the door. I had thought we were gods; now I wondered if we were even men. We became almost beasts each in our wild efforts to be the first to set foot on the new territory. I struggled as hard as the rest, but though I bit and scratched, it was my misfortune to be the smallest of the party, and I stepped out last.
Immediately, I was oppressed with a sense of my own insignificance. Could I actually have made a god of such a puny creature as I? Quickly, I looked at my companions. They seemed to have shrunk to half their former size. I found that I was afraid—terrified—a small child alone in the dark. If this was Olympus, then we had not conquered it, nor the god of it. I turned to flee to the spaceship but it also had shrunk. Where could I hide from the glory to which I had foolishly climbed? I fell to my knees and cried, “Oh God, when will we reach the bounds of our habitation? How long till Thou sayest ‘Thus far and no further’? Have we not built Babel high enough?”
Then I looked at the blackness of space around me and I laughed. The universe was not large enough to hold the Eternal and had I thought that I had reached His dwelling place? We had not come so far. We were but human and the creation stretched beyond Mars.
 
7........


This may contain one of the best things I have ever wrote:

The rain had stopped and the cats had continued.
But before they went on Creamy pointed something out.
“We’ve been through several adventures; we need a leader of our Catlition. Candidates?”
“I nominate Missy!” called out Dora.
“I nominate myself!” Explorer said.

Out of the whole group these two were the most likely candidates to lead the Catlition. But one other spoke up.
“I nominate Ribbony for the leader of the Catlition.”

All eyes turned to Kit.
The White Kitten was smiling softly.

Ribbony shook his head, “Me Kit? Why me?”
Kit turned to his disbelieving friend, “You are the most loyal, trustworthy, kind, understanding, gentle, humblest and smallest cat I have ever met. But even though you are small Ribbony you have a big heart and you are strong and brave. You have a warrior’s heart; both caring and fair but terrible and brave when need be. You are trustworthy and kind. If I had a brother I’d wish he was like you Ribbony. You aren’t perfect; nobody except myself and my Father are, but you try your best anyway. This is why I think you should be our leader, Ribbony.”

After that there was no question about it,
Ribbony was the leader of his very own Catlition.
 
Okay, I'm running out the door and can't post an excerpt right now...but I had to say that I would give Mozart's a 100!
 
There seems to be an empty space, so I'll post an excerpt. This is from some fairy tale parody thing.
 
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8, funny and it says "fifty three" in it.:D

From my Mozart book:

‘The price we pay,
Is sometimes great,
But other times,
It’s very small.
Sometimes we give,
Our lives,
Other times,
We only give a part.
War brings grief
And sorrows too.
So many things
Are wrong
But yet we live,
In this place,
Safe it seems,
Till War and Darkness come,
And seem to overwhelm us all!
Yet it is,
The price we pay,
To keep all,
We love safe.
We’ve died and lived,
Defending, Dying,
For all those,
Who are now free!
We give them life,
But the price we pay,
May be our own life too.’
 
I give you a 9.

Based upon a story from Shadowlands Haunted Places.

It were spring, and Reepicheep he was on a vacation in Signal Mountain, who laid in Tennessee.

The sunny afternoon was ending, and Reepicheep he tried to find a place to spend the night in the forest on the mountain.

As Reepicheep entered a place for camping, was he wondered why nobody was out that early evening.

Suddenly was somebody calling his name in the quiet forest, and Reepicheep said “Hey! I just came to find a place to sleep tonight!”

Nobody answered, so the mouse he explored the camp.

The mouse dragged it's sword, as he thought he saw a living hand coming out from a tent.

Reepicheep he shouted “I'm not afraid! This must be a joke!”

The mouse he came closer to the tent, as he saw something that never scared him as much as before.

A lifeless looking boy with no legs and no left hand crawled out of the tent, and the mouse asked “Who are you?”

The remains of the dead boy he explained the mouse of what sad things happened in the forest, as the mouse felt like running away.

Then was the kid saying “Please stay!”

The mouse shouted “No! Leave me!”

As the gray boy with no legs said “I want you to join me in this forest forever, and never leave!” was he creeping nearer the mouse.

Reepicheep he shouted “Never!”

The boy said “I beg you to stay here, forever!”

Then was the mouse running all he could from the remains of the boy, until he came as far away from the camp.

At last was the mouse out of the forest, while he found the nearest city where he could sleep.
 
Good. Around 7.5.:)

Amy passed out sticks of gum (sugarless), and all of us kids leaned over to see the landing field.

Johnny gasped. “Oooh, remember the plane crash on ‘Destroyed in Seconds’?”

Rory nervously chewed his gum. “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking about, too.”

“It did a nose-dive and crashed,” Pete explained to Tim, who wasn’t allowed to watch those kind of shows.

“Anybody killed?”

“No, but there were three injured—two people and a stewardess.”

For some reason, Amy gave Pete a look. Why, we had no idea.

As the plane came down, several of the nearby passengers looked anxious. (They must have heard Pete’s description.) As the pilot made a perfect landing, they looked relieved, but Johnny looked disappointed. “A little turbulence wouldn’t have hurt.”

We disembarked and headed for the luggage area, where Pete accidentally got somebody else’s suitcase (because there were at least ten black ones). After that mess got straightened out, Amy dragged us and the luggage outside and hired two taxis to take us to the hotel.

Once we got there, Amy had to stand in a long line to check in. That took at least fifteen minutes, and we had nothing to do but sit in the crowded lobby and stare at a fish aquarium. When Amy got back, she took one look at us and almost shouted, “Where’s Teddy?”

We hadn’t even noticed he was gone. There was a big panic, and the moment Amy ran to get the hotel security the rest of us split up to search for him. Pete finally found him running up the down escalator, but when we all got back togther, Johnny was gone. Turns out he had decided Teddy’d been kidnapped and was trying to contact the FBI on the nearest payphone.

When Amy finally came back, followed by a couple of guys in uniforms (they must have been security), we were all sitting on the couch, calmly watching the fish.

“Never mind, I found him,” Pete informed Amy.

Amy muttered something about getting a leash and motioned a bellboy to come and help with the luggage.
 
8, lol


this is part of a random fanfic story I'm writing based on the books The Seven Sleepers Chronicles:


Now Carrissa was a strong-willed, rather easily angered and easily offended girl; in public she could often be quieter than a cat stalking a mouse but somehow she sensed here that being quiet would do her no good. She was set on a wagon and hauled to a city in about three days time, where a large tall building reared into the sky. She was taken to what she assumed was the jail because there were bars all over the windows and doors and because of the rancid smell.

“Who are you people? Why am I here? What is going on?” her questions fell on deaf ears and went (much to her anger) unanswered. By now she was being walked along without rope or binding. So the girl promptly stopped in the middle of the hallway.
“I’m not taking one more step till you tell me what’s going on!” she growled.
“In time you will learn.” Said the general of the red-robes as Carrissa secretly called them, “You will learn all you want to know, and some things…” he paused a moment, “And some things you will wish you hadn’t known.” Then he grabbed her arm and started dragging her along. She was tossed like a ragdoll toy into one the cells and made to wait.
 
6.5

He'd tried these past years to forget it, but seeing this man again brought the memories back. He remembered the legless man, the crazy old convict, and the dead child in this man's arms.

He tried to force the images from his mind again. He had almost been able to convince himself it'd been a dream. Why was it coming back to him now? He wished that it would not be rude to throw the man from his troika.

Another awful silence followed, and Andrei did not think he could bare it.

"I seem to have forgotten your name," he said.

"Fyodor Nikolayevich Kolsov."

"Kolsov!" The name woke a new memory.

Fyodor Nikolayevich raised an eyebrow.

"I don't suppose," he said, "You'll tell me why my name surprises you?"

"I'm looking for an old man by the name of Kolsov."

"Old man? I don't know any old men. There is my father, but he's
dead."

"I'm sorry, for your father," said Andrei.

Fyodor Nikolayevich snorted.

"No you're not. You never knew him. Even if you had, you wouldn't be sorry. Well, I don't even know if he's dead. I came back...from Siberia
after fifteen years (I feel I must tell you this, if I am to travel with you), and was told he's dead. I found no grave."

"Fifteen years? For what?" Andrei felt his belt for a pistol, but then realized he hadn't stopped to take anything.

"For nothing. For being in the wrong place. They saw me with Katya's body..." His voice trailed off, his eyes misted. He was human for a moment, until he regained his composure and started speaking in the same monotone.

"Who is this old man of yours?"

"I don't know who he is. He said he's a Baron. Baron Dmitri Pavlovich Kolsov."

"Why are you looking for him?"

"He stole my Nastasya," said Andrei through clenched teeth.

"It sounds like the sort of thing he would do, pretending to be a baron. Though I do wonder where he got the money." His mouth formed an O, as is he realized something.

"Baron.... what was his name?"

"Dmitri Pavolovich Kolsov."

A tiny smile made his torn lips twitch.

"What a perfect name."

He bit his finger.

"I'll help you find him," he said around the finger, "If you like."

He took the finger from his mouth, wiped it on his pants, and held out his hand.

Andrei looked at the tough, gnarled hand, but did not take it. Would Fyodor Nikolayevich be a man of his word? Andrei did not trust his emotionless eyes or his torn face.

"Of course," said Fyodor Nikolayevich, "You've no reason to trust me. I realize that. I don't even know what I asked. Siberia turned me to stone. I wish to become human again. This is the only way I know how."

His eyes grew sad again, and he drew back his hand.

"I think I will take the chance," Andrei said, "You seemed a decent fellow when we last spoke, and you seem a decent fellow now."

He reached out is hand, and Fyodor Nikolayevich grasped it.

"Thank you," he said. And he smiled.
 
I randomly wrote this one night as part of the begining chapter of my 4th book, its subject to change though.



Mitch’s legs felt like they were about to break. The small creature stumbled on though, terrifying images still flashing through his mind.
Meerkitten, Mitch’s little sister, limped behind him her tiny blue eyes looking defeated and scared.

From the start it had all gone wrong; the kits had gone to the dock like their mother said, but some of the wolf’s followers had come after them. They had hunted the raft down and killed the all creatures that were on it, save the two kits who had been able to escape off the back of the raft by jumping to shore. Meer had sprained her paw from the impact when she landed on the bank and it hurt terribly after miles and miles of walking. Only terror kept the kits going now, terror of the creature who had taken everything from them; their home, their lives as kits, their friends and even their mother.

Midnight saw the two bedraggled kittens stumbling below him. They were at most three weeks but he doubted they were even that old. He didn’t want to scare them but could think of no way that he could reveal himself to them without terrifying them out of their fuzzy little minds. So he went for the straightforward approach- he jumped down and landed directly in front of the first kit.

Mitch’s eyes widened in terror as a huge black cat leapt down from the trees to land in front of them. He struggled but managed to unsheathe the sword his mother had given him fairly quickly. Then he moved in front of Meer and said, “One mowe step you dead cwat. Don’ towch my swister o’ me gwot it?!?”
Midnight shook his head, this kit had spunk and courage for one so young and seemingly defeated! Actually the only thing that kept Mitch from backing down and cowering was the one thing he still had; his little sister Meer. He would protect her with his life if he had to.
 
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