Tuesday, October 26, 2010

My life gets harder

One day I hear this music so I decide to follow it and find where it's comeing from. The music brings me to a king and his daughter a beautiful princess. Her name is princes pea. As soon as I see her I fall in love with her beauty and try talking to her. She was crying though. She told me the reason shevwas crying was because her father will not move or talk to anyone because her mother had died from a heart attack. She sees I am a kind little mouse and talks right back to me. Althought my big brother furlough Saw me speaking to the princess and hurrys back and tell all the other mice of my doing. This is considered a very bad thing because we are not aloud to talk to, be seen, or have any sort of an encounter with humans no matter what! When the mouse council hears of my doing I am called in front of all my fellow mice and sentenced me to the dungeon. The dungeon is where all the mice are sent when the are convicted of something like this and found guilty. This is where I am told that mice are killed by rats when they are sentenced here. Here I meet a man named Gregory, he is the jailor and also a human. I tell me a story of a prince that saves a princes and that I am the prince and princess pea. He laughs and throughs me then leaves the room. I am then attacked by hundreds of rats and taken down further into the dungeon. Here I am in the dungeon serounded by rats that want to kill me. They throw me in a ring that is surounded by thousands of them. I would kinda look like a stadium. Then all of a sudden they let out a cat that is chained up and it attacks me thankfully a rat named Roscuro said stop and that he wants me for himself. He told the head of the rats (Botticelli Remorso) that I look delicious and he wants me for dinner. He belives him and he takes me and I leave with him. He wispered in my ear that it's fine and he won't hert me. When we finally get back to his place I tell him the story that I had told the jailer. He likes the story and we become friends.

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