if you are reading this-when you have time please go to youtube and type in amanda todd-click on the video in black and white with a girl holding up cards....
RIP AMANDA TODD
Thursday 18 October 2012
Redie Ware Hood-part 3
With a blink Hood sprinted...sprinted for the house. Who's was it? Silly question, Redie knew whose house it was, Hood didn't. Hood was nearly at the house now, her ginat gaping hole in her face overflowing with syliva. Licking away the wet fluid oozing from her mouth Hood pushed past tree's and bushes, violently ripping them down as her anxiety grew bigger and bigger. She was there now. Hood felt as if she had known the house all her life...who's was it? With a terrifying howl Redie smashed threw the front door, only leaving claw scratches where the hinges once were. A blood curdling scream filled the forest as Hood sunk her teeth into the cold, thin flesh that was once pink with life, now just a sight of blood. Hood had done it. As Hood wiped the blood away from her vile mouth, she fell to the floor with sweat dripping of her palms...why was this happening? Hood could no longer clench her hands and as she soon found out she could no longer walk, she closed her eyes and howled to let out the tension building up inside her head and with that her vision went black.
Wednesday 10 October 2012
Redie Ware Hood-part 2
The cloud slowly moved over the moon, blocking the light bidding to be shone through. Redie knew now...it would be a matter of seconds. One howl...two howls...three howls...one rip...two rips...three rips...one last final howl.
Ware Hood. That was her name. That was her beastly name when she was this form. Her pupils were large, the whites of her eyes had disseased leaving her charcoal pupils, bloodshot red. Her nose was red from the bitter cold air, whilst sweat swam of her forehead drowining her nose in it from the intense heat that was forming inside her, menatlly. Her hands had lost the goosebump gloves they once wore, instead, grew harsh yellow nails sprouting of the top of her fingertips sharpend into an intense claw capable of scratching through stones, able to stab through the hardest materials. As another howl escaped from her wet mouth, salyva oozed down her sharp K9's. Her new and improved teeth supprisingly white, visible from space as the moon reflected of them, riccashaving onto the nearby house's window...the house...there was a small cottage, all the lights of apart from a dimly lit bedside lamp which she could make out with her newly discoverd eyesight...a house...Hood could see a house...
Ware Hood. That was her name. That was her beastly name when she was this form. Her pupils were large, the whites of her eyes had disseased leaving her charcoal pupils, bloodshot red. Her nose was red from the bitter cold air, whilst sweat swam of her forehead drowining her nose in it from the intense heat that was forming inside her, menatlly. Her hands had lost the goosebump gloves they once wore, instead, grew harsh yellow nails sprouting of the top of her fingertips sharpend into an intense claw capable of scratching through stones, able to stab through the hardest materials. As another howl escaped from her wet mouth, salyva oozed down her sharp K9's. Her new and improved teeth supprisingly white, visible from space as the moon reflected of them, riccashaving onto the nearby house's window...the house...there was a small cottage, all the lights of apart from a dimly lit bedside lamp which she could make out with her newly discoverd eyesight...a house...Hood could see a house...
Tuesday 9 October 2012
Redie Ware Hood-opening-IMPROVED
My name is Redie. My other name is Hood. This is my story. My fateul night in the woods.
I never really knew my mum or dad. I was adopted when I was a baby. They found me in the woods. My adopted mum calls me her angel. Sent down from Heaven apparently. Even if I were. I'm back up there now.
It was a thursday...no...Friday evening and I was on my way to my grandma's house. She was ill and my mum had sent me to her house with a basket of cakes, Grandma's house was a twenty minute walk through the woods. I'd walked there lots of times before on my own. I'd never once trailed of the path. But this time I did and I can't turn back time now. Not after what's happened.
It was dark and wet. It had been raining fir days. A storm was brewing. The clouds were like charcoal and the air was bitter, sprinting down you throat, hammering on your lungs oredering you to cough it back up so it can be freed back into the wild again like a wild animal. I'd been walking through the woods for about ten minutes and I was soaked through. My red coat ruined. The trees were rustling, twigs and leaves carpeted the path that was meant to lead me to safety. There were hundreds of trees all shading the tiniest bit of light that was trying to break through. My dark hair was soaked and hanging limply by my waist. My pale hands wore Goosebumps for gloves. My eyes were shining, bigger than the moon.
I never really knew my mum or dad. I was adopted when I was a baby. They found me in the woods. My adopted mum calls me her angel. Sent down from Heaven apparently. Even if I were. I'm back up there now.
It was a thursday...no...Friday evening and I was on my way to my grandma's house. She was ill and my mum had sent me to her house with a basket of cakes, Grandma's house was a twenty minute walk through the woods. I'd walked there lots of times before on my own. I'd never once trailed of the path. But this time I did and I can't turn back time now. Not after what's happened.
It was dark and wet. It had been raining fir days. A storm was brewing. The clouds were like charcoal and the air was bitter, sprinting down you throat, hammering on your lungs oredering you to cough it back up so it can be freed back into the wild again like a wild animal. I'd been walking through the woods for about ten minutes and I was soaked through. My red coat ruined. The trees were rustling, twigs and leaves carpeted the path that was meant to lead me to safety. There were hundreds of trees all shading the tiniest bit of light that was trying to break through. My dark hair was soaked and hanging limply by my waist. My pale hands wore Goosebumps for gloves. My eyes were shining, bigger than the moon.
It was late and I’d lost my way. It was midnight. It
felt like I’d been walking for days. I would never find my way home. I knew I
would turn into my other form. My real form. All in a matter of minutes…
Wednesday 3 October 2012
A short rap verse
Ya'll how you doin?
I'm a push you down pram, looking,
Swags high praise bout my style,
Bet, bet'cha you was hot like mine,
Go lick it in the water, gettin diggin that northern style,
Height, high bout your suede brogues,
Must be admitting, that your shoes, look at the bank they broke,
And, yeh, not gonna blame your style,
But looking at me creepers, their higher achy swag steer style,
Yeh...yeh, go check your bank coz the water be cold by where I stole, swanked.
She, she.. She jacked my style,
She took a crack at the bank where they be diggin me northern style...
Me northern style,
My northern style.
This is a rap I've been working on for a while now. I know quite a few of my usual readers won't understand the message I'm trying to get across with this bunch of words, it's not even clear for me, but I wrote it at a low point, trying to boost my spirits...the message this rap holds is basically-money cant buy personality, designer can buy you limited attention, but when people can't afford to buy well known named clothes, they fall back on their personality, this should be the first thing people get judged on, not their clothes or image, their style, being their personality. Please comment on this piece as this is one of the most unstable pieces I've written, by the way, the rap is to be rapped really really fast, (like the 'busts rhymes' part in 'look at me now' but not the same tune.
I'm a push you down pram, looking,
Swags high praise bout my style,
Bet, bet'cha you was hot like mine,
Go lick it in the water, gettin diggin that northern style,
Height, high bout your suede brogues,
Must be admitting, that your shoes, look at the bank they broke,
And, yeh, not gonna blame your style,
But looking at me creepers, their higher achy swag steer style,
Yeh...yeh, go check your bank coz the water be cold by where I stole, swanked.
She, she.. She jacked my style,
She took a crack at the bank where they be diggin me northern style...
Me northern style,
My northern style.
This is a rap I've been working on for a while now. I know quite a few of my usual readers won't understand the message I'm trying to get across with this bunch of words, it's not even clear for me, but I wrote it at a low point, trying to boost my spirits...the message this rap holds is basically-money cant buy personality, designer can buy you limited attention, but when people can't afford to buy well known named clothes, they fall back on their personality, this should be the first thing people get judged on, not their clothes or image, their style, being their personality. Please comment on this piece as this is one of the most unstable pieces I've written, by the way, the rap is to be rapped really really fast, (like the 'busts rhymes' part in 'look at me now' but not the same tune.
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