There is a speck of a old crusty house that been tumbling down the beauty of a hillside for decades. Cars pass it all the time, saying how its so ugly. Raccoons, rats, and dears passing by all the time around that house. Usually it reeks around that piece of junk. The sun never rises or sets over their, its always dark, sad. Its devil's work.
Too bad he needs to wittiness that piece of junk on his way home and to school. Rumors say there is a still life in that house. But he crosses through it every day and doesn't sense any life.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
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