toi never know what toi might write do you, toi could write about your life toi could even write a fantaisie novel but the one thing people have forgotten about for years is the Dark of Writing.
Not many know about this story all the normies know is that bad things happen all the time killings, earthquakes and tornadoes and plus but what starts them what starts anything.
That is what the Dark of écriture is it's death on the happiest jour of your life, it's l’amour when its forbidden and its a death for a new life.
But worst of all, and toi can't tell what I am about to tell toi to anyone, only the special writers must know like you, toi and even toi there in the back, is there are dark writers who can write anything and it happens even death and because of them a war has been raging for aeons a war between good and evil and so far the power of good isn't doing well.
They've been crushed at every turn and only a few good writers have the will to fight back, but sadly they don't know what powers they contain in their hearts, the power of life, of l’amour and of books.
Now the story I am going to tell toi is about 2 of the only remaining good guys, called saviours, who managed to- actually you'll just have to read on past all the death and loneliness in life and see the light in everything because thats what saviours do see the light in the bad.
Tread carefully in écriture because to much passion and l’amour for the thing could make the world better ou bad depending on how toi use it.
the 2 people im going to tell toi about are called Drew Droke he is 12 years old and the younger one is Sam Sampson and he is 11.
So to all sit back and relax as I tell toi the story of the greatest saviours ever.
Not many know about this story all the normies know is that bad things happen all the time killings, earthquakes and tornadoes and plus but what starts them what starts anything.
That is what the Dark of écriture is it's death on the happiest jour of your life, it's l’amour when its forbidden and its a death for a new life.
But worst of all, and toi can't tell what I am about to tell toi to anyone, only the special writers must know like you, toi and even toi there in the back, is there are dark writers who can write anything and it happens even death and because of them a war has been raging for aeons a war between good and evil and so far the power of good isn't doing well.
They've been crushed at every turn and only a few good writers have the will to fight back, but sadly they don't know what powers they contain in their hearts, the power of life, of l’amour and of books.
Now the story I am going to tell toi is about 2 of the only remaining good guys, called saviours, who managed to- actually you'll just have to read on past all the death and loneliness in life and see the light in everything because thats what saviours do see the light in the bad.
Tread carefully in écriture because to much passion and l’amour for the thing could make the world better ou bad depending on how toi use it.
the 2 people im going to tell toi about are called Drew Droke he is 12 years old and the younger one is Sam Sampson and he is 11.
So to all sit back and relax as I tell toi the story of the greatest saviours ever.
When will this end?
Mass shootings
Terrorist attacks
Police brutality
They say it's just a gun control problem
They say it cannot be fixed
I say the problem is deeper
I say there is hope
When will this end?
Income inequality
Veterans living on the streets, penniless,
Dying par their own hands every day.
Some say they will make America better
But nothing has changed...
And I truly do fear
Nothing ever will
When will l’amour start?
The jour we offer a hand to the fallen
Instead of cringing back in shock
And running away
When will our world change?
The jour we l’amour too much to kill
The jour others' pain becomes our pain
The jour we act instead of just talking about it
"It's impossible"
"We're too broken to be mended"
"It's a hopeless battle"
Yes, it's hard, but let us try.
Mass shootings
Terrorist attacks
Police brutality
They say it's just a gun control problem
They say it cannot be fixed
I say the problem is deeper
I say there is hope
When will this end?
Income inequality
Veterans living on the streets, penniless,
Dying par their own hands every day.
Some say they will make America better
But nothing has changed...
And I truly do fear
Nothing ever will
When will l’amour start?
The jour we offer a hand to the fallen
Instead of cringing back in shock
And running away
When will our world change?
The jour we l’amour too much to kill
The jour others' pain becomes our pain
The jour we act instead of just talking about it
"It's impossible"
"We're too broken to be mended"
"It's a hopeless battle"
Yes, it's hard, but let us try.
Newly born
Squeals
Pitifully
A tiny voice raised high
Going nowhere
Confined
Confused
A single spot on the page
Then
It grows
And walks in waves and braves the amer wind
Shakily on its spindly legs, it smudges the paper
chant its first tune
A tiny tune
Twirling and whirling
It grows taller
And tougher
With every beat of its half-grown heart
It grows
Joined par others
They sing together
A forgotten voice
A reflection
Of Lost symphonies
Tooting their trumpets
They stand to attention
An army of discord
Marching forth
Into a brand new dawn
Squeals
Pitifully
A tiny voice raised high
Going nowhere
Confined
Confused
A single spot on the page
Then
It grows
And walks in waves and braves the amer wind
Shakily on its spindly legs, it smudges the paper
chant its first tune
A tiny tune
Twirling and whirling
It grows taller
And tougher
With every beat of its half-grown heart
It grows
Joined par others
They sing together
A forgotten voice
A reflection
Of Lost symphonies
Tooting their trumpets
They stand to attention
An army of discord
Marching forth
Into a brand new dawn
adventre
Jack turned and ran his own screams still ringing in his ears. He manged to find an empty classroom in which he collapsed against the door.
He must have been imagining it there is no way Mr Thompson is dead? His body was slumped in the chair, blood trickling down his face and his ghost was sitting on bureau staring at the door a pale grey." JAAAAAACK!" an unearthly shriek sounded through the air. Jack ran to the window and tried to open it but it was locked. CRASH the door flew of the hinges and Mr Thompson entered.
Jack ran through the door straight under the ghost and sprinted down the corridor.He finally reached the exit, he wrenched on the door as hard as his strength would allow but it wouldn't budge. he could see out of the corner of the eye Mr Thompson gliding down the corridor looking in each classroom. Quickly and quietly Jack slid behind a chair in reception. "AGRHHHHHHHH!"
something had grabbed jack round the neck
END of chapter two
Jack turned and ran his own screams still ringing in his ears. He manged to find an empty classroom in which he collapsed against the door.
He must have been imagining it there is no way Mr Thompson is dead? His body was slumped in the chair, blood trickling down his face and his ghost was sitting on bureau staring at the door a pale grey." JAAAAAACK!" an unearthly shriek sounded through the air. Jack ran to the window and tried to open it but it was locked. CRASH the door flew of the hinges and Mr Thompson entered.
Jack ran through the door straight under the ghost and sprinted down the corridor.He finally reached the exit, he wrenched on the door as hard as his strength would allow but it wouldn't budge. he could see out of the corner of the eye Mr Thompson gliding down the corridor looking in each classroom. Quickly and quietly Jack slid behind a chair in reception. "AGRHHHHHHHH!"
something had grabbed jack round the neck
END of chapter two