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Their Fathers' Footsteps Ch28Chapter Twenty Eight
Carefully avoiding the police officers scanning around the area, Amy Lee moved from one stop to another, using only her accoustic guitar and good memory of songs to busk for money. She certainly wasn't in a bad place, but spending the night on the streets wasn't an option either, especially since she was a stranger there and had used up the last of her savings to travel up on the train.
Just as she was breaking in to the opening bars of the next song Amy Lee felt a soft tapping on her shoulder. "Excuse me young lady?" the police officer asked her in a soft Scottish lilt, "Do you have a license to busk here?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't" the young female guitarist answered him regretfully, "However, you see, I'm in a band and someone blackmailed someone to blackmail my band member to give them our best song for the battle of the bands and I have to find someone to help me solve this but I ran out of money and if my dad will be so let down if
Their Fathers' Footsteps Ch27Chapter Twenty Seven
Back home news had gotten to the parents and all of them had begun a mission to go and retrieve the kids from up in Scotland. Why they had gone there no one could tell. First Amy Lee had scared them all by disappearing and then Roanna, Dion, and Daisy-Mae had followed after. Tom had suggested driving all the way up and searching around the whole of Scotland to find them; Danny had suggested ringing around every phone number up there in the chance that someone might've seen them; and Harry had suggested ringing their mobiles and asking them where they were, but it was Dougie who came up with the idea of hiring a private investigator.
"He's a good one too" Dougie explained as he flicked through a small notebook full of phone numbers, "Helped me when I had that stalker problem and caught the guy threatening to kidnap the Jones' twins that one time. Plus he's both Amy Lee and Dion's god father so he has to do this for us: H
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More