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The Unknown Scouts CH. 2Chapter Two: Secrets
Yuumei sat in front of her bedroom window. 10 years have past since she tried to run away. Yuumei is now 21. She had been so very young and so very confused about what was going on.
"I wonder what ever happen to those young boys?" She thought. "I hope they are still alive."
Yuumei sighed then got up and headed to the door. "Time to go see Hoshi."
She walked down a long hall in the castle she lived in. She had blamed her uncle for everything that happened 10 years ago. She had lost her family. She was so confused that she thought her uncle had had a part in her families deaths. Though she has for the most part grown to trust her uncle. Forgiving him of all past thoughts of betrayal. Though now she heads to visit her cousin Hoshi Kado.
Hoshi had recently contacted her about a memory keeper who knew some very important information about Yummei's family history. It was time to leave the castle and head across town to one of the smaller lands that Hoshi was now i
A Cockatails SongThere is a story why the Blue Bird is blue. But this story is not about the Blue Bird. It is about a cockatail named Yang. How she found her true love. She would sing every day and sleep every night. Early one morning before she was awake she heard a song she had never heard before. She had never heard it's like before. She decided to go and discover where it was coming from. She flew off in search of the song. It was lovely. The song was just so sweet that she just had to find it. Soon she was whistling in return. The song grew louder as she came closer. From a distance she could see a young male cockatail with very bright cheeks. She soon landed beside them and they rubbed their feathers together. Yang somehow knew this was where she was ment to be.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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