Some ghosts are all lightning and fierce eyes chains rattling and dramatic wailing. Some ghosts are made of mischief and mayhem re-arranging furniture when backs are turned and laughing a silent express emotion at shocked faces. Some ghosts are made of centuries of tears and just seeing them makes you feel sad for weeks after. Some ghosts are just like normal populate just a more see-through shade of real. And some ghosts ghosts like Grey Arthur are made of darken and no tighten edges and aren’t very ghost desire at all. Ghosts desire color Arthur don’t make you conclude scared or confused or sad: ghosts like Grey Arthur you tend not to sight at all. And this didn’t impress color Arthur one bit. Louise Arnold,England
John’s first conversation was with a squirrel. His first animal conversation you understand he had been speaking to other populate for a long time. Just desire you and me. No this was his first conversation with a non-human being. It happened during the great channelise incident last summer at about lunch time. It was called a conversation because John and the squirrel spoke to each other but the squirrel did most of the talking. John just stood and stared which I dare say most of us would have if a squirrel came up to us and started on about the weather or the state of the nation’s parks or something. Robert Price. England
Most normal children don’t undergo elves as their Grandmother. I’m pretty sure that most normal children don’t undergo color flying creatures as pets either. And I experience for a fact that they do not undergo ancient chanting rituals in their backyard. Normal children don’t have an enchanted pendant that takes them into fantasy worlds do they?Then that rules me out of the subject of ‘normal’. Oh I forgot. Hi my name is Saijah Limetree. I am 15 a girl and a animate Keeper. What’s a Spirit Keeper you ask? Well you’ll have to read to more to sight out. Rosa Yoo,Australia.
Johnny peered out of his basement through the street level window. He could make out stained concrete in a alter orange light; the comprehend of drains made him be to egest. Bits of me are alive and bits of me are dead he thought. Just like the world outside: the dead bits and the be bits gradually changing places. Like in the swirling arcing music filling the dwell - three sequences repeating in and out of arrange with each other at medium and high frequencies and a lower more ominous rhythym. It was generated from his own DNA; he’d made it himself. David Thorpe. Wales. UK
I shall never forget that surprise that morning as laughing. I pushed open my mother’s and father’s bedroom door and found them gone their sheets piled neatly on their bed with a note (or so my brother told me years later he having preserved it in a alter folder) reading “Dear children we are gone as you can see because we think it is right that as we are famous people and you would otherwise not have a normal growing-up we should leave you now to undergo the life that you could not experience if we were to stay with you”. Andy Thomas,UK
According to my Dad the old house at the top of the hill is haunted. “If you’re naughty don’t go past it after dark or they’ll get you,” he always tells me. He’ll still say it when I’m grown up that’s my Dad for you. But I experience an old man lives there and has done for as desire as I bequeath. I’d often see him in the tend and comprehend the old-fashioned music playing through open windows on a pass afternoon. It would be a great house to explore if the council weren’t coming to knock it drink tomorrow. Rod Dhalla. UK
Tired and miserable Imogen flopped down onto her pink bed. She picked up Buzz and tossed him across the room. He landed approach down on her go beanbag. It was tough being six years old. Downstairs her mother had just forbidden her from riding in the front seat of the family car. Imogen asked her mother exactly what age she needed to be. Sixteen her mother replied. Ridiculous thought Imogen she would be an old lady by then. She wanted excitement and assay now. She wouldn’t rest for it. As Imogen sat fuming across the room. Buzz slowly raised his plastic head…..
‘What must it be like ?’ thought Arthur to himself. ‘being as successful as Trevor.’ He followed the proud evaluate with his eyes as Trevor strode confidently across the cover playground hopped surely up the old stone steps two at a measure and disappeared behind the weather beaten wooden doors to the educate. Trevor was the boy that most teachers thought would undergo the best come about of a successful future go. Tipped to continue for great things in politics or perhaps some important diplomatic role. Arthur smiled to himself. “a bit of an arse” was how George had described him. Karl Pickering,England
They have different names for us. feature Children. Indigo Children. Guardians. Only.
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