I know it's short, I made it just for fun :)
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One lonely sunday afternoon
I sit in my chamber and have nothing to do
My love is far away
I wonder if (s)he's already forgotten me
So I sadly watch the sky
See the raindrops passing by
One looonely sunday afternooon...
One looonely sunday afternoon
One lonely sunday afternoon
I'm even as my flowers still out of bloom
I find some old photos, covered with dust
I cannot forget you although I know that I must
So I sadly let them fly
And this time I have to cry
One looonely sunday afternooon...
One looonely sunday afternoon
**********************
*********************
One lonely sunday afternoon
I sit in my chamber and have nothing to do
My love is far away
I wonder if (s)he's already forgotten me
So I sadly watch the sky
See the raindrops passing by
One looonely sunday afternooon...
One looonely sunday afternoon
One lonely sunday afternoon
I'm even as my flowers still out of bloom
I find some old photos, covered with dust
I cannot forget you although I know that I must
So I sadly let them fly
And this time I have to cry
One looonely sunday afternooon...
One looonely sunday afternoon
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January 16, 1815
Journal,
We have gotten fortunate, Journal! Nastea has found coats in the broken down train. She sits by Sasha now, covering her in them. And she took one for herself as well. I can see color returning to Sasha’s cheeks. Nastea coughs harshly, shivering nervously. Her toes are turning blue, and one has already fallen off. We slept in the train last night, getting as much warmth as we could. We have to start to move tomorrow, find shelter. The berries Nastea fed Sasha seem to have made Sasha a lot sicker than she was before. She’s coughing up blood now. The snow around her is stained with red and pink. I attempted to make a fire earlier, and let me tell you journal, it didn’t work out. It’s much to cold to start flames. For every time the fire ignites, it extinguishes, the harsh winds blowing it out. I’m losing my teeth, journal. Nastea can’t talk anymore, and her and Sasha’s hair is mostly gone. Journal, what’s happening to us?
Bye Journal,
Nadia
Journal,
We have gotten fortunate, Journal! Nastea has found coats in the broken down train. She sits by Sasha now, covering her in them. And she took one for herself as well. I can see color returning to Sasha’s cheeks. Nastea coughs harshly, shivering nervously. Her toes are turning blue, and one has already fallen off. We slept in the train last night, getting as much warmth as we could. We have to start to move tomorrow, find shelter. The berries Nastea fed Sasha seem to have made Sasha a lot sicker than she was before. She’s coughing up blood now. The snow around her is stained with red and pink. I attempted to make a fire earlier, and let me tell you journal, it didn’t work out. It’s much to cold to start flames. For every time the fire ignites, it extinguishes, the harsh winds blowing it out. I’m losing my teeth, journal. Nastea can’t talk anymore, and her and Sasha’s hair is mostly gone. Journal, what’s happening to us?
Bye Journal,
Nadia
The pookie fell from a tree
upon hitting the ground he farted
scared at his own flatulence he tried climbing up the tree. But for every branch he grabbed he tooted. and for every twig he broke, he farted.
farting all the way up, pookie climed that tree. He had to make it to the top you see, cause that where pookie's make pee. Relief was almost in reach for pookie. till a stiring occurred within.. a rumbling sensation, and pookie knew.. with a tear, that he couldn't hold it in.
Till this day those who were near said it sounded like a cow mooing. The momentum of his farts became like a rocket and shot pookie up and out that tree! Up in to the sky..till pookie could not be seen.
moral of story? dont eat beans. O_o
next chapter "The pookie Returns"