The power is almost intoxicating. No one dare moves until instructed as such. His tool, long, pointed, slashes through the air, creating and destroying at will. His ‘gang’ follows his every lead, inspiring fear, sadness, whichever emotion they see fit. No one is safe.
He arrives.
Everyone goes quiet. Anxiety builds…
The conductor raises his baton. The orchestra gets ready…
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2 comments:
U are B. :D
But tuff one still D
nice
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