Lol. I don't think so. But in the words of the wise Thomas Foster "Every writer steals something or another from a writer before them. That's how stories come to be. Nothing is truly original." Ignore the last sentence. I hate that one.
And hm... how about Mr. Fogester? Like 'fog' as in mystery.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
The crows seemed to be acting strange that afternoon as they swarmed around a particular house in whem street. The sky was cloaked in grey, and if that didn't dampen your mood, then the pouring rain would. The crows caws sounded distant as the rain muffled its noise. If it weren't for the foreboding feeling in the air, and the blaring sirens of the police cars that were on their way, and the crows (who were believed to be bad luck ), the street would have been more serene. I knelt down beside the body that laid sprawled on the floor. I couldn't help but let a tear escape my eye when the old man struggled to raise his withered hand to my face. The look in his eye so distant. I could hear Cassie cry on Drakes, who just held her tightly and sad nothing. I quickly wipe my face as i heard the police arrive with the ambulance along it. they strapped Mr.Laurence makeing sure not to severe his bloody wound on the chest. Cassie's eyes were rimmed with red as she followed the stretcher up to the ambulance despite the rain. she stood outside until the ambulance was out of site , before comming back in with what seemed to be more tears or just the rain water on her face.
Do the people think that they will be left to say, "We believe" and they will not be tried? (29:2)
the old man is kind and has grey hair .
