

The Death Of A Writer“Cinderella had the breath knocked out of her when she saw the prince,” I typed, lulled into a writing trance by the soft mechanical hum of my laptop. Its screen was the only light in my dark bedroom, casting a dim bluish glow on the clothes-strewn floor. Without a doubt, midnight was the best time to write. “Her heartbeat sped up and she could not tear her eyes away. The prince was the most handsome man Cinderella had ever seen. ‘Your highness…’ She breathed, bringing her hand to her chest.” I could just imagine Cinderella’s voice as if it had spoken aloud: breathy, feminine, full of barely contained emotion. “Hey,” IThe Death Of A Writer


Raging Thunder~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Raging Thunder
0. Here Is Your Jigsaw
Every story has a beginning, middle, and end. That’s the first thing you learn as a little kid. Every story you hear begins with “Once upon a time” and ends with “happily ever after”, or “unhappily ever after”.
But you know what? I don’t believe that anymore. I really don’t. I don’t know where to start because there is no start, no beginning that I can see. Maybe I’m not smart. Maybe my friends would see it better than me. They see lots of stuff I don’t.
But this is my story. I’m a lot more smart
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hay visit me [link](my other page) o and, ignor the spelling errors...
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ignor the spelling errors, OR DIE!
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