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My murdererHopefully you'll understand this. This is in case I'm murdered and the criminal in unknown. See, I'm typing this ahead of time right now. Mom and Dad went to some life saving class (ironic, huh?) and Eric ran off to the fire house (I'm guessing. He kind've just ran out the door all of sudden and hasn't returned. Maybe he went to class...I don't know.). Funny, I'm actually doing my homework right now too. I ain't procrastinating for once! Well, sort of...this stuff was due Friday...heh...oh well. So again, I'm home alone and I'm upstairs in my mom's room on my computar working. The dogs are being dumb and won't shut the hell up so that's actually making me a bit nervous (mainly when they stop...like right now...shit) and every noise I hear I'm taking badly. I haven't seen a trace of mom's or Eric's car in the camera-monitor thing in her room and it's dark enough to see anything. Creepin' me out, man...seriously.
So if you get this email and the next day or so you hear I was bumped off,
The Void - Temporary IntroI turned on the couch, snoring in deep sleep. Yeep! I jumped up suddenly, breaking my sleep. I squinted tiredly at the dark clock. It read 2:15 in the morning of course. I swung my legs down onto the floor and grumbled to myself. Ugh, stupid Left 4 Dead. Great game but this lack of sleep its causing is annoying I turned and grabbed the remote. Whats on TV? Maybe itll distract me from the game.
A knocking came at the door. Huh? I looked back to the clock to confirm the time. More knocking came. I stood up, irritated at the disturbance. What the hell?!
I walked passed the front door and looked out the window onto the front porch. Ooh~! Bad view! I turned and scurried to the stairs, climbing up a few and looking out that window. From here I was able to spot someone knocking on the door. Yeep! I cried again. Wh
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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