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Literature Text
-6:43 AM, April 10th, 1912- Southampton, England
Nicholas Thatcher woke up extra early today. He gasped, waking up immediately. He sat up in his hotel bed, looking at the clock. Smiling, he got out of bed, careful not to wake Sofia (his sister) who was sleeping next to him. He went bare foot on the wooden floor, past the bed his mom and Amber (his other sister, twin of Sofia) were sleeping in. The 11 year old kneeled in the wooden chair that was pushed up to the high window so he could look out.
Their hotel in Southampton overlooked the White Star Line's Pier. Nick could see it from their floor of the hotel, just barely. In that ocean dock later on, they'd finally be boarding the Titanic! Other buildings blocked most of his view, but Nick could see the top smoke stacks of the liner- four tall pillars.
It had been in the dock for a week, preparing for the big voyage it would take today. It was finally Wednesday. It was early, but they had to still get their things together and head down!
Although his mom had already taken care of it all. Everything they needed and were taking on this vacation to America was packed. Well, at least he saw it as a vacation. Really, they were going to stay in America a few years.
Nick's father was already there, looking for better work and a job. He'd went earlier, working on a cargo ship to Boston. His dad stayed now supposedly in New York and sometimes sent them money. He was always busy. They'd hardly heard much from him these last few months. So Nick's mother decided to save money (it was about £48 for all their tickets together) and finally they would go to him and stay live. That was the plan, anyway.
So the only things not packaged were some of their money, clothing they would be wearing, and their things for getting ready (toothbrushes, hairbrushes, soap, etc.). Also, him and both his siblings would be aloud to bring one item with them in hand. Other than that, everything they'd managed to squeeze into three suitcases and a backpack.
He bounded back over to the bed where his mom was still asleep. He tapped her lightly.
"Mom. Mom! It's Wednesday, the 10th! C'mon, we have to get ready."
Amelia blinked blearily, looking to her son. She sighed, glancing at the mounted clock. "Nicholas, it is barely 7AM. What are you even doing up so early?"
"We get to go today, mom! Shouldn't we be getting ready?"
"We can't even get on the ship until around 10." she explained sitting up. She yawned as she started waking herself up more. "Alright, fine, I'm up. You can get start getting ready, but do not wake your sisters."
Nick nodded, going into the washroom to do so.
Literature
The Vagrants Tale 3: Plans
The Vagrants
Tale 3: Plans
After resting within the room for the rest of the day, Mercer was told that he could get out of bed by Osip and was given his medication. After taking the medication with no sleeping pill this time, he felt the effects of it. Mercer would cringe a bit as he felt a sort of tingle flow through every single individual nerve in his body, followed by numbness. The numbness ended within a few minutes and he would feel perfectly fine. Mercer found that Osip had left the room and would start to walk out of the small hospital room. He would head towards the side to his left, but would be pointed out that it was a storage
Literature
The Lighthouse and the Ship
I am the lighthouse that sees through the grey.
I am the very one that lights your way.
I can see through every mist, storm, and cloud.
I am the leader that makes not a sound.
I see anything and everything with a bright, glowing eye.
I notice visual details and I don't even try.
It's my duty to help ships find their way to the shore.
As long as I'm lit, let the cold rain pour.
I am the ship wo loves to wander and roam.
I'm the steel swimm who glides through the ocean's foam.
It's not easy having a job at sea.
Some days are great, other times I can't even see.
My friend, the lighthouse, always leads me to the docks,
But its light always disap
Literature
Prologue - I
“The greatest of risks to be undertaken by something no smaller than a pin.” Solomon muses, squinting at the red pin, the needle pinched between his fingers. Circular, small, almost missed by the untrained eye. Then again, it is a bright candy-apple red.
One would have to be blind to miss it.
“Why did we not make earrings? Those are near the face and all.” The Darkrai looks over to his assistant, hoping for an answer of some sort. None is offered up to him.
He takes another look at those gathered by the square table in the kitchenette. A common apartment, with two bedrooms and a large common area beside the place wh
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I'm not liking where this is going... NOT THE TITANIC!! Aggggg :'p