So my World History gave out his first enjoyable assignment of the year. We had to write a 33 line (hand written) story from a picture of child labororers during the Industrial Revolution. So here's the much fixed up version of what I turned in, from the POV of a little boy I like to call Patrick.
I'm going to stop bitching in this journal and make it a works journal. I've been making a few icons, and writing, but I never have a place to put them, because I never update the websites I make. =P
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Blashphemey aka Snuffy's Morning. She frowned as she slapped the strips of meat onto the cooker that was currently substititing as the family stove and frying pan. The meat was pinker than usual; even the fat had a pink tint. It was slightly rubbery under her fingers, though when she sniffed the strips smelled like
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Silently Watching She watched him weave through the crowd, expertly dividing him from the rest of the rabble. He was easier to spot then most; his ebony skin and purple hair contrasted heavily with the rest of the crowd with their pale and brown skin and colourful clothing. She watched as he reached the coroner that
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