There were old gothic caravans everywhere,each falling apart,but still perfect to live in. There at the end of the camp,was a large,tall,lacey black tent in which Crimson had always been punished in front of everyone by his master. Now the whole place was deserted.
Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 9:54 am
Crimson walked inside the tent and looked around it with a sigh. "What a boring place but it's mine."
Homicidal Poet
Indulgent Lunatic
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Homicidal Poet
Indulgent Lunatic
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Posted: Sun Mar 06, 2011 7:55 am
Once he stood in the middle,he began to sing to himself,making his own miniature show,using fire and shadow that was shooting from his fingertips.