Simon Monologue

•Bruno sees a boy on other side of the fence. He's sitting cross-legged on the ground, has grey looking skin, and wears striped pajamas and a Star of David arm patch.

Thank you for taking an interest in the role! I really appreciate it. — So I have some background for the Emilia role, but it's open to creative freedom. She, Brandon (me) and the Kit all grew up on the bad side of town (I haven't picked a location yet, as I wanted everyone's input once I got the group together) She and Brandon are very close, almost like siblings, and he's very protective of her; they have a relationship like Dom and Mia from Fast and the Furious.

Killing must feel good to god too… he does it all the time. Without hesitation, without a scratch of a though against his head he lets it happen and he lets the action run its course again and again and again.

Wolfsheim, a man over embellished by rings and lavish attire. He leans forward to address a young wide eyed Gatsby. Gatsby leans in and follows Woldsheim’s story of his tough childhood in Manhattan. Wolfsheim blight was being the son of an abusive business man and that he knew nothing better than a life of physical and emotional abuse.

OK damn man. Ok I’m just going to give you general details. I already told as much as I’m going to tell you about Friday night. On Saturday we party on a boat with these fine ass women, however Luther didn’t go he was too hung over, so we left his ass at the

Epilogue The time has come. The last day of school has arrived. 4 years of uncertainty and uneasiness.

Inspector Male, I just wanted to reach out and let you know the amazing efforts of Andrew Crowe and Greg MacArthur on Monday December 28th. Sorry for the long winded e-mail but I think it’s necessary.

Short Story/Scene In a little town in California, Littletown ville, is a town known for baseball. They had a little league called the Littletown ville Jaguars. They didn’t have practice today for the little league all stars, but joe’s friends had decided to practice. “Hey billy do you want to play catch?” said Joe.

I live in the small town known as none other than Bridgman. Bridgman is a peaceful town where you have an extraordinarily small chance of being a victim of crime, with only nine incidents total ever recorded, and a total population of just under twenty-three hundred, (2,300) and nice public amenities. This little town is practically perfect. Perfect in every way, all except one. I needed help, and at times, I felt cursed. I couldn’t make friends, or keep friends. This is when my hero came through for me.

I am writing to you on the behalf of the terrible accident that happened the other day with me and your darling son Theodore. I just wanted to clear this up for you, so you don’t have to report it to the state generals office. Here is what actually happened...

It’s been six months since her husband Samuel died. It’s been hell since the day she found out. Like being pulled into a black hole. The moment those words left the man’s lips, she started falling into a black hole. When she made the funeral plans. When she packed all her belongings and all her son’s belongings into boxes and moved from California to a small town called Collinston. She just fell deeper and deeper. She isn’t the only one who has suffered from this loss. Her son William is 7 years old and will not talk to anyone other than his mother ever since the event of his father’s death.

“The gun is too old, it’s going to misfire,” mused Stanley as he fingered the trigger of his pistol. It was a small and weak gun that had been in his possession for many years. “I’m too nervous, I won’t be able to pull the trigger, let alone aim this thing,” he thought to himself in horror, his apprehension wreaking havoc on his nerves.

Bright rays from the sun seemed to make the band around her finger glow as it shielded her from turning into a pile of ashes. Instead of crumbling away, her delicate skin begged for the shine the sun granted to her barely covered frame. Long locks cascading down her back to end just above her rear, small gusts of breeze swaying it slightly. The years had been generous to the youthful Shae Hoffman — at least, visibly youthful. Over a thousand years old and you wouldn't know it unless you asked, but most with the ability to get this knowledge were either dead or similar to her in deeper ways than you could ever imagine. Even with ages on her, her soul was still active and always managed to reach out to one familiar male — one

George: We don't want the french coming back trying to reclaim something they recently lost.

The last cry from the boy was replaced by the sound of gurgling as blood spewed out of the wound where the sleek arrow had punctured right through his throat, and the sound of a body flopping against the cold stone floor, metal chains clanking. The last twitches of a body struggling to survive…