I lay here, my end near. I can see my end, I can hear it too. It is not good but I must go. Not now, if that man had not shot me. I hear him tell many, what he has done. But they dont help, they go away. The man does not care, but he shot me. Who cares, I am just a dog. I roam the town, with hope. Hope that a man will free me from this lone town. And take me with them, to a home. Now that hope has come true, but not the way I want. The man who was too free me, has shot me. But he has made me free form this town, and now I will go to a my new home, hell. When I die, I will make food for many of my kind. The same kind who roam the town with hope. The same hope of a man to free them. I wish them good luck, a new hope I now have. Hope that all my kind will be free of not just this town, but all of them. And that they will go to a home that they can love. Not my future home, that I will hate. Now I die a sad dog. My end is now here and down I go to meet the hounds of hell.
I think that my story is quite good, I thought I used what John Marsden said about writing and I think it worked out quite well although there were some words which were more than five letters.
To find out more about John Marsden, click on the link below.
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