sometimes it felt like a dark void swallowed the nation, bringing fear and desperation and plumiting desserlation to a population of the incarnation creation nation.The ice liked to stick to windows and killing, lingering over the dwindling, clinging,  vegetation, chilling and willing, waiting for  a thrilling. People huddled and prayed for things in a make shift shelter, riding the helter skelter, hoping the smelter wont swelter in the heat of the melter, Why? why must they suffer?cant they fight the bright might of the slight knight and the bitter night for the sight of a white christmas, which could fright the tight mite of the forthright plight? Has the land got a curse from a witch, who killed the rich and dumped them in the ditch to the west on the glitch on the pitch of the land, do the souls haunt the foals with goals of returining the tolls to the witch? Or does the sun shine behind the clouds? Thats the catch, the latest batch of the mismatch children with snivling noses patch the thatch and attach the match of dispatch.But alas the grass grown in mass, pass to brass and harass the class of repass of the population of the incarnation creation nation and the snow doesnt stop falling.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!