Lamb Timer

just a thought at a book doesnt really have an ending but i havent been getting any review anyway so fudge it

Laughs and gasps are what Charles wanted, like Darwin before him shaking the foundation of principal logic and more importantly God. To carry his self esteem in a vault is what he had to do before he ever showed the world his talent for being the biggest p***y teaser known to man, a thinking man who didn't need it, only the love of a woman. He has always thought of himself as delusional that he was, the Beast, so big, birds nest on htis head, only the dead chicks stay at his feet, one of the names he'd been called even before his only describable as explosive tendencies.

Riding bareback on the cobble streets of London in the turn of the 20th, the church bell rang twenty times he noticed on his 20th. Sunday but not wine and crackers just dying from shankers. Charles recalls and quickly turns to reconcile his secret, he flew down the stairs; his first memory, not old enough to know the word. He still thought he could fly, anyone to tell him he couldn't soon would. His second was the the outline of the metal buckle on the orphanage masters belt after showing his concern for Charle's cold gaze. He remembers Bartholomew explaining only the alpha lion has long hair. That lock of hair kept in comfort was the equivilent of a few pints which stopped serving a purpose after leading his last horse into a marsh where he stayed